What Might Have Been
by Stretch
Summary: Caught between the rivalry of two ancient Guilds, Remy LeBeau has just been entrusted with his group's most valuable new asset: a runaway named Rogue. But is he up to the challenge? Especially now that Logan's on the trail? !COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

**What Might Have Been**

By: Stretch

_"I try not to think about what might have been._

_'Cause that was then, _

_And we have taken different roads._

_We can't go back again, there's no use giving in._

_And there's no way to know…_

_What might have been."_

**-Little Texas

* * *

**

Prologue

Rogue clutched the limp ticket in her hand, damp from sweat, the ink leaving a purple stain on her skin. She didn't notice. Her attention was focused elsewhere: on the reflection staring back at her from the dingy public bathroom mirror. The girl glaring back wore a somber expression, her green eyes ringed with dark circles of fatigue, and slightly bloodshot from tears.

With sudden swiftness, Rogue slammed both fists down onto the ceramic sink in front of her, relieved at the pain that pulsed through her arms and forced a soft sob from her mouth.

Relieved that she could feel anything at all.

'It doesn't matter anymore,' she told herself. The Institute didn't want her. The Professor didn't want her. Logan didn't want her. 'Maybe some people are just meant to be alone,' she figured.

Maybe she was one of those people.

That wasn't the first time a thought like that had crossed her mind, but each time it did, it hurt a little less than before. 'Maybe,' she wondered mentally, 'this is the second phase of my curse they call a mutation. Step one: no feeling on the outside. Step two: no feeling on the inside either.' It was easier to live without emotion, she decided. It would make the isolation more bearable. Just then, Rogue's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp crackle as a voice burst over the speaker system yelling,

"Track 8 now boarding, making the following stops: Illinois by way of Carbondale, Kentucky by way of Nashville, and Louisiana by way of New Orleans. Again, Amtrak on Track 8 is now boarding."

Sighing, Rogue gave one final glance at her reflection before stuffing the ticket into her pocket and pulling on her brown leather gloves, now slightly damp from lying on the bathroom counter. Throwing up the hood on her mother's borrowed cloak, she stepped out into the chaos that was Grand Central Station, pushing her way toward Tack 8, duffle thrown carelessly over her shoulder. Handing her ticket and bag to the conductor, she paused in the doorway to take a final glance around.

'So long New York,' she thought bitterly. Then, with bold steps, she marched onto the train. Leaning deeply into her seat, she watched the station begin to slip away behind her as the train gained momentum. Rogue had no idea where she was going, but it had to be better than the mess she was leaving behind.

* * *

Logan killed the engine of his 'borrowed' Harley and coasted to a stop in front of the station. He scanned the crowed for any sign of his young companion, his every sense alive for the slightest trace of her. He breathed in deeply, Rogue's scent faint on the air around him. Following his nose, he shoved inside, bumping into people here and there, completely focused on the task at hand.

Finding himself on the now empty platform for track 8, he spun frantically, refusing to believe that the scent trail ended here.

"No…hell no," he muttered, glancing onto the quickly platform 9, and then to the emptying number 7. But his senses didn't lie. Rogue was gone.

He was too late.

But Logan was not alone. Another scent hung lightly on the air, something foreign and …dangerous. Turning on heel, he strode out of the empty platform. He may have lost her this time, but Logan wasn't about to let Rogue do anything foolish. He was going to find her.

No matter what.

* * *

A/N: Hi ya'all. Now those of you who know me know that I usually avoid shippers like the plague. Not that I have a problem with them, they're just not my favorite type of stories to read…and I never write them. That is, 'till now. I was on vacation in NYC, standing in Grand Central Station (which, btw, is not the train station used in X1, but the set was modeled after it.) and then it hit me: What if Rogue had gotten away on that train? That, combined with my love of Gambit, prompted me to write this story. Not that I have anything against the Bobby/Rogue deal, and I love the whole Logan/Rogue friendship thingie, but I just wanted to try my hand at a very famous Marvel paring. So be forewarned, there will be major fluffiness by the second or third chapter, and this story will be an alternate ending of X1. So, now hit that purple button at the bottom and boost my ego, 'cause I won't write me unless you all want me too :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Marvel does. I don't own the lyrics to What Might Have Been, Little Texas does. Don't sue, please.


	2. A Not So New Beginning

The scent of New Orleans hung thick in the air, a combination of bourbon and stale perfume, of glory and history, of wealth and poverty, of the future, and the long forgotten past. To anyone else, it would have smelled like new beginnings. But as Rogue breathed in the rich scent around her, she knew better than to believe that.

There was no such thing as a new beginning. Not for someone like her.

No matter where she went, she would always be a prisoner. Guilty of evolving and sentenced to spend all of eternity locked within her own skin. There were no fresh starts for her, she knew. The outcomes would always be the same, just the settings would be different.

Around her, the city was alive with sounds and color. Night was just falling as Rogue stepped off the open-air train platform, but the city seemed to be waking in the growing darkness. Voices rose around her as she stepped into the crowd and found herself swept away by the current of rushing bodies. Tourists and businessmen, families and couples, all swarming to reach their destinations. And one lost, lonely teen caught up in the madness.

After an hour of walking, Rogue was still getting nowhere. Pulling a quickly thinning wad of cash from her pocket, Rogue bought a cup of coffee off a street vendor. Retreating from the crowds around the corner of a closed office building, she leaned against the wall by the alley, resting her tired feet and sipping slowly at the hot drink. She let out a long sigh, glancing back at the people rushing along the main drag. 'They're all so happy,' she mused. 'Bet they all have somewhere to go home to tonight. Someone to go home to.'

Tired of staring at everything she didn't have, Rogue looked down the rapidly cooling drink in her hand. Being on her own had been hard the first time around, but this time…it felt so much harder. Maybe that was because this time she had found acceptance, and had lost it. She'd found her happy ending and then she had to go and screw it up.

Bitter and miserably, she shifted the heavy duffle on her shoulder. And that's when she felt it. Something pressing against her leg. Whirling instinctually, she threw out her arm.

Her assailant shot her a gap toothed grin, one hand emerging from her cloak pocket, triumphantly clutching the last of her money, the other hand catching her flying arm in a surprisingly strong grip. He was filthy, his greasy gray hair matted against his skull. His vile breath made her cringe as he pulled her close.

"Ah, ah, ah misse," he hissed dangerously. "You best not be throwin' your arm 'round like dat." With that, he jerked her viscously into the alley, catching her off guard and making her stumble. "You migh' hurt somebody." Rogue did the only thing her shocked and panicked brain could think of.

"Ahhhhh," she screamed. Or at least she tried to. That's when she discovered her assailant had a partner. He emerged from the shadows behind her, clamping a hairy hand over her mouth with a hushed,

"I got 'er, Touley!" Bad idea.

Rogue felt her powers swelling inside her as the man's bare flesh pressed against her own. Tremors rippled down his body as she felt the vile thief's consciousness welling beneath her own. Power gripped every fiber of her being as his energy, his strength, his life force flowed into her. Struggling futilely against the man's convulsive grip, trying desperately to break contact, Rogue never heard the shouts of the man's companion, never saw the pipe flying threw the air…until it was too late.

The darkness consumed her as her prone body hit the ground, next to that of her unconscious victim.

* * *

A/N: Yay! First chappie. I know it's short. Thee next one will be longer, don't worry. And no, the toothless thief wasn't Gambit, so don't worry. But do go review. I love reviews! C'mon, no more reviews no more updates… 


	3. The New Assignment

Jean-Luc Lebeau was pacing back and forth, glancing at his watch. He didn't need this problem right now. The Guild didn't need this problem right now. He had to find a way to make this work…he had to.

**Knock! Knock! Knock!**

Jean paused mid-step, glancing at the door. It was too soon to be Touley.

"C'min," he growled. Seeing his foster-son strut through the doorway, Jean's spirits lifted immediately. "Remy. Ah'm glad you're here."

The Cajun boy looked older than his 20 years, hardened by the streets and his training. Eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, he wore a long, sweeping trench-coat, despite the stifling heat of the tiny room. Taller than his foster-father, he moved gracefully as he walked, carrying himself proudly. Smirking, he leaned casually against the wall.

"Ah heard rumor dat Touley 'n Jasper ran inta some trouble," he explained, pulling something out of his pocket. This behavior didn't surprise Luc. That boy was always flipping around that deck of cards. "Someone mentioned dat you could use a hand cleanin' up der mess." The scorn in was clearly evident in his voice as he spoke. Touley and Remy had no love for one another, and Remy really wanted to be there to rub it in the man's face when he arrived.

"You her'd right, as usual," the older man confessed. "Dem boys had trouble on a job earlier. Sometin' 'bout a killer girl." Remy snorted contemptuously.

"Dos fools got whupped by some chile, so dey come draggin' der sorry asses back in here to bitch ta you?" He shot the deck of cards from one hand into the other, rolling his eyes behind his shades. "Dey never learn, do dey?"

"'Parently she almost killed Jasper," Jean explained, waiting to see his son's reaction. It was the exact one he expected.

"Knowin' Jasper, he probably deserved it," Remy muttered. "What she do, stab him?"

"Touch him." That got Remy's attention. The ace of spades drifted to the ground as he regarded his father closely from behind his shades.

"You mean," he stared to ask.

"Dat she's a mutant?" Jean-Luc finished for him. "Dat's exactly what ah mean." Jean paused. "And that's exactly why Ah need you here." Remy shot him a puzzled look from behind his frames. His pop knew he didn't like discussing this particular…issue.

"Why?"

"'Cause da other boys, dey afraid o' her," Jean confessed helplessly. "An' she took a pretty good beating, so ah heard. You da ony' one who won' act funny 'cause o'…well, what she is."

"So, dey roughed her up and she happen to be a mutie?" Remy shrugged. " So what? Ain't the firs' time dat pair done somethin stupid like dat." He looked his father straight in the eye. "Jus drop her few blocks from da hospital like dey done before, and be done wit her. Den you don' need to bring 'er here and you don' need me at all."

"You don' get it Remy," Jean-Luc murmured. "Tink boy! A girl wit a killer touch. Who could use someone lik dat?" And then it clicked. Remy bore down upon the man, not believing what he was hearing.

"You gonna take some por' kid off da street, fix her up, and give her to the Assassins?" he demanded. Jean was angry now. He was doing this out of his son's best interests.

"Look Remy, ah got a bad situation on mah hands here, but Ah'm trying to make da best of it," he raged, gesturing broadly. "This foolish feud had gone on for too long," he said, more quietly. "Too many lost…from both sides. And if dis is an opportunity to fix dis whole mess without some weak union, den so be it!" Remy glared at him.

"Ah already 'greed to marry her. To marry any o' dem," Remy said pleadingly, hoping his father wasn't seriously considering this course of action. "I 'greed to the whole ting. So why we need to do all dis now?" When Remy looked at his adoptive father's face this time though, he saw no anger. Only compassion and pain.

"'Cause you don't want to," Jean-Luc sighed. "'Cause Bella didn' want to, and dese other girls don' want to. Well, dey migh', but for da wrong reasons It ain't fair ta force you all into dis," he admitted.

"An' what we doin' ta dis poor girl is?"

"Remy, as yo' father you can hate meh for dis as long as you like, but as your leader, Ah', orderin' you to take be da girl's keeper. Get her well an' ready ta move, keep her from escapin'. Dos are your orders!" Jean looked as if he wanted to shout a bit more, but that was all he got to say before all hell broke lose.

Two men suddenly burst through the door, one carrying a set of legs, the other holding a blood stained head, a prone body suspended between them. Both of them were covered in gear fit to warm a person in Siberia, but despite their protective clothing, neither looked too pleased at being this close to the kid. Bleeding profusely from a head wound, the child was pale and in bad shape.

Behind them, her victim wasn't fairing much better. Jasper's big, black arms were wrapped around Touley's and another man's shoulders, as they hauled him in, feet dragging.

Remy shoved the cards into his pocket and rushed over to help with the first group, wrapping his long arms around the girl's waist and discreetly laughing at the prone Jasper.

"What da hell you done now, Touley?" he chided, shuffling the girl's prone body over to a rusty bed in the corner. "You just goin' 'round beatin' the shit outta innocent girls? Or dey da ones beatin' da shit outta you?" Touley shot Remy an evil glare over his wounded partner's head.

"Don't you jar 'bout what you don' know kid," the toothless thief shot back. Remy felt the blood pounding in his veins.

"What did you call me?" he demanded, hand sliding into his back pocket instinctually.

"You heard me, half-pint" Touley's vicious grin grew with the knowledge he'd hit a nerve. And hit a nerve he had, for Remy had reached the end of his patience with the man. The tension between the two was thick, and silence hung in the air around them for a brief second before…

"Ah'll show you how much of a kid Ah am!" Remy raged, leaping forward and withdrawing a card from his pocket, glowing bright purple. Touley was ready though, yanking the knife from Jasper's belt and rearing back his arm to throw. Remy hit the floor, rolling, just as Touley released. The knife borrowed into the wall, missing the Cajun's shoulder by inches. Mid-roll, the card flew from out between Remy's fingers, exploding in the air and throwing Touley, the unconscious Jasper, and their helper back against the wall with a sickening CRUNCH.

"Enough!" Jean-Luc bellowed, leaping into the center of the fray, just as Touley and Remy we restrained by the stunned onlookers. Other guild members, milling about the usual headquarters, rushed into the room to help/observe the madness "Ah will not tolerate dis kinda behavior wit-in mah own guild!" he fumed, glaring at the older man and his adoptive son where they both struggled to get free and resume killing one another. "Der is enough of dat goin' on with the 'Ssassins already!" But no one was listening to Jean too closely.

"Dat boy is a freak!" Touley was shouting at the top of his lungs, looking slightly singed. "A destructive menace, jus' like dat girl!"

"Ah'll show you destruction, you toothless coot!" Remy hollered, desperately trying to resume his assault.

"Dat's it! You," Jean pointed at the red-faced Touley and his captor. "Get dat bastard outta here. Ah'll deal wit him later. "You two, git Jasper dere over of Momma Cece's. Let her fix 'im up." Jasper was hauled to his feet by two new aides, and dragged out, followed by a loud and vindictive Touley. "You can let 'im go now," The elder Lebeau then informed Remy's restrainer. After all the rearranging, Remy found himself alone with his father and the young girl.

"Ah'm sorry Pop," he said softly, running his hands through his hair. Jean shook his head sadly.

"Look Remy, he had no right ta say dat, but you, well…" and with that, Jean stuck out his hand and smacked his son upside the head, for lack of anything to say.

"Ow!"

"You, of all people, should know how 'portant it is ta keep peace witin da Guild righ' now. Do somethin' stupid like dat again, and you be wishin' Touley's aim had been better." Remy groaned as his father made for the door.

"Wait," Remy shouted as the Guild elder made to leave, "what am Ah suppos' ta do now?" Jean-Luc pointed at the pone, blood drenched figure on the bed.

"Ah suggest you start by getting her cleaned up." And with that, Remy was left alone, utterly perplexed by the sudden turn his life had taken.

* * *

A/N: Yay, we got to meet our hero. I wanna thank everyone who reviewed. "Thanks, they make my day." Now go down to the bottom of the page and tell me how much Remy rocks your socks. C'mon. lets see those reviews… 


	4. Getting Off On The Wrong Foot

She hovered in the darkness, not yet awake, no longer asleep. And for that second, for that one brief shining moment, Rogue prayed that it had all been a bad dream. That all of it, her mutation, the Institute, all the problems in her life, everything, had been some horrible nightmare, and that she would wake up back in Mississippi, in a boring old bed, the same boring old girl, going by the boring old name of Marie. But then the moment ended, time resumed its normal course, and the pain hit her like a wave.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned softly. "My head…"

"Yeah, well, dat's ta be 'xpected," a slick voice crooned from nearby, "considerin' da bump you took." Rogue's eyes shot open and she flew upright. The sudden motion made her sick to her stomach, and her vision was blurry. "Easy dere chere," the voice crooned again, and Rogue tried to focus on the blurry shape as it moved around. "Dos bandages took a long time ta git on. Ah won' have ya pullin' 'em off just lik dat."

"Who…who there?" the runaway demanded, bringing her hand up to her throbbing temple…or tried to. That's when she realized her hands were bound together. "What the hell is going on!" Then it came back to her. The mugging, the men, the pipe coming down across her head.

"Now jus' tak it easy, dearie," the voice assured. Squinting hard, Rogue made her eyes focus, and the blurry figure, now a young man in dark glasses, looked down at her. "You don' wanna do yo'self more harm." Flattening herself back against the wall in one, fluid movement, Rogue took a quick assessment of her surroundings. She was in a dank smelling room, lit by a few bare-hanging light bulbs and the glimmers of illumination that poked through the single, boarded up window. Aside from her bed, the only other piece of firnature in the room was a rusty folding chair. The only way out was the door along the far wall. And the only thing blocking her way out was that…that guy.

"You keep away from me," she ordered, brandishing her still bound and gloved hands out in front of her. Remy, noticing a trickle of blood leaking out from under the bandages on her head, pushed her outstretched arms down easily and leaned in to inspect the wound closer.

Seeing the perfect opportunity, Rogue threw all her weight forward as she swung her arms upward, nailing Remy right in the base of his legs (c'mon, you know where). He doubled over instantly, groaning and berating himself for not having been more careful. Her prison guard otherwise preoccupied, Rogue pushed herself to her feet and tried to make a run for the door. Tried to because that's when she noticed her legs were tied too. Thrown terribly off balance, she tumbled back onto the bed.

Remy struggled to stay upright as he stumbled backwards, getting as far away from the crazy girl as possible. His breathing still ragged and feeling the need to regroup, he tried to calm the girl down verbally.

"Jus' tak it easy chile," the Cajun crooned, slowly edging towards the door, ears ringing. Crime, combat, easy women. Those things he could handle. Vicious, nut-crushing runaways with concussions? Those were not in his job description. Feeling the doorknob with his hand behind his back, Remy swung the it open with a dull CREEK

"Do not leave me in here!" the girl screeched, trying lunge at Remy once more. With a sickening crash, she fell to her knees, and the Cajun took the opportunity to dash out of the room without a look back.

Leaning against the door, while he locked it behind him, Remy caught his breath.

"Damn, dat one mean chere," he muttered to himself.

"What," a voice asked from down the hall. "She didn' tak being held captive well as you t'ought?" Henri LeBeau emerged from the shadows and sauntered down the dim hall to stand across from his foster brother. He looked as if he was highly enjoying the younger man's discomfiture.

"Wha', you kiddin'?" Remy asked, plastering on a jaunty grin "She loves me.". At that exact moment, the wall behind him gave a ferocious jump as if something had been thrown against it hard. Like a fist, for example.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"You sleaze-sucking, bottom feeders! Let me the hell out!"

Henri chuckled again as Remy buried his head in his hands.

"Oh yeah bro, she's crazy 'bout you," the older boy said, giving his foster brother a playful sock in the shoulder.

"What am Ah gonna do?" the Cajun asked in a hushed voice. "I did not sign up for dis," he admitted.

"As Ah recall you didn' sign up for any a dis'," Henri reminded him, fully sympathetic now. "What Ah suggest is dat you turn on dat ol' Cajun charm you always braggin' 'bout," he said, a smile just tracing the edge of his lips, eyes gleaming mischievously from beneath a fringe of black of hair. "An' if dat fails, den tink of it dis way: considerin' da way she looked when she come in here, at least she won' be able to keep dis up fo' long," he said optimistically, as the wall behind Remy jumped yet again.

* * *

An hour later…

**BANG! BANG!**

"Let me our, you scum!"

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

"'She won' be able to keep dis up fo' long','" Remy muttered sarcastically juggling two hot bowls in his hands as he maneuvered down the hall. "Good call Henri…". Then, raising his voice, "Ya know, chere! You can bang in dere 'till the cows come, but you still ain't getting out. So for da sake ob your fists, and mah ears, why don' ya give it a rest a'ready?" There was a pause before…

**BANG!**

Rogue gave one more defiant bang before Remy heard her sit back down on the bed.

"Tank you." Balancing the piping hot bowls in the crook of his arm, the Cajun managed to dig the room's key from his back pocket and unlock the door without burning the crap out of himself.

"I though' dat maybe ya migh' be getting' hungry," he said, poking his head into the room before he entered, just to be sure he wasn't going to be ambushed. But Rogue was far from a threat in her current state. Pale and shaking slightly, she was huddled in the corner of the bed, back to the wall, glaring at Remy as he entered. 'She half dead, an' still she fightin',' he thought to himself. 'Damn, dat one feisty fille.' He put both bowls at on the floor and went over to the girl.

"Ah told ya ta take it easy," he chided gently, thinking about just how much trouble he'd be in if the kid died on his hands. "Ya los' more blood dan I eber seen before. Trus' me, ya lef' enough on mah clothes ta prove it." Another evil glare.

"Good," she panted. "Maybe I'll die and you'll get the crap kicked out of you," she shot back, but she couldn't hide the quiver in her voice.

"Tanks for da kind consideration, chere. Here," he thrust a bowl into her unsteady hands, hanging on an extra second to be sure she didn't drop it on herself. "Guarant'd ta pick ya right up." She wrinkled her nose.

"What the hell is it?" she asked, looking slightly repulsed. Remy couldn't help but laugh at here face.

"Remy's five star gumbo," he said flamboyantly, giving a little bow. "Best stuff you gonna find 'round des parts." That caught her a little off guard.

"Remy?" she asked. "You cook?" Was that disbelief he heard in her voice?

"Remy be my name chere. An' as fer da cookin', ya sound a little surprised, chile," he said, picking up a bowl for himself and sitting down in an old folding chair in the corner.

"You don't seem like the cooking type, that's all," she admitted, shrugging and looking away. With some difficulty she brought the bowl to her lips, figuring she was already at this man's mercy, so what was the point in poisoning her. "Hey, that's not too bad."

"Again, tank you," the man…that Remy guy said. "You know, you not so bad when you not screamin' or bangin' my 'nads. So, you got a name to go wit dat mean uppercut?" The girl didn' answer right away, and Remy was staring to think that she was giving him the silent treatment when…

"I don't have a name," she said finally. "Not anymore." Remy couldn't honestly say that he was surprised. He wasn't expecting an honest answer, but he needed to call this kid something other than chere. Anything would do.

"Er'eybody got a name darlin'. Jus; gimme somethin' ta call ya?" he pleaded..

"Rogue," she muttered under her breath. He leaned in closer.

"Pardon'?"

"I'm called Rogue."

* * *

A/N: Oh, so sweet. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. You have no idea how much I appreciate them all. And thanks DarkElf, for pointing that out. I always appreciate advice and constructive critcisim. I was in such a rush to get that last chapter up that I didn't proof-read it too well. But I plan on going back and editing when I get a sec. So thanks to everyone. Keep the reviews coming!

C'mon, hit the purple button! I command you!


	5. Choices and Futures

Jasper's memories still lingered, hovering just below the surface of Rogue's personality, but she was no longer fighting them off. The man's mind was oily and repulsive, a landfill evil and filth, but it also contained information that Rogue found very helpful.

"What's the Thieves Guild?" she demanded of her captor, who was still seated in his folding chair, flicking a deck of cards in his hands. He paused when her question penetrated the growing silence.

"Eit'r you got more pow'rs dan Ah know, girl, or our reputation be proceedin' us," he muttered, glaring at her from behind his glasses. It had been almost a full day since Rogue had awoken in Remy's care, and she was growing steadily more miserable. She had no idea if it was night or day, she hadn't slept, and her head was still throbbing. Even worse, her vision was still fuzzy, and bouts of dizziness threatened to overcome her.

Remy was equally thrilled. He'd either been stuck in this room or sitting just beyond it, and his boredom was quickly mounting. He wasn't meant for this kind of work, stuck inside four walls. No, he was meant for movement and interaction, not babysitting. However, he was quickly learning something about their captive: she was not to be underestimated.

"So, who are they?"

"Dey," Remy said slowly, "are da greates' thieves dis world has eva' known, all rolled in ta one, neat package. More dan' a club or union, da Guild's family."

"And your one of them?" she asked again. Remy resumed his shuffling.

"Not jus' one, chere." He gave a flourishing wave with one hand, flinging the cards from it into the other palm. "Ah'm de bes'."

"Hope you're a good thief, because humility obviously isn't your strong suit," Rogue mumbled, sinking lower into her cloak and pulling her arms into her chest. Despite the heat resonation through the small room, she was freezing. "So what do they want with me?"

Remy wasn't ready for this conversation. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason he just didn't have the heart to break Rogue's fate to her. So he did the next best thing he could: he lied.

"Ah wouldn' know. Ah ain' dat high up da ladder yet. Ah'm jus' da babysitter." Rogue snorted in contempt.

"Yeah, I'm sure the best thief in the world is really low on the corporate thievery totem pole," she said sarcastically. But shee was unable to control the little waver that appeared in her voice as a wave of pain racked through her head. Remy caught it too.

"Roguey, you ain' lookin' so good," he said, pocketing his cards and walking over to her. But she wasn't focused on him, because the room had started to spin once again. Falling back against the wall, she brought her bound hands to her head, moaning.

"Rogue?" Remy called, but she didn't respond.

Blood rushing in his ears, he raced to the door and grabbed the first person he saw. "Get Mama Cece! Get her down here now! Tell her to hurry!" Tearing back into the room, he grabbed his charge by the shoulders, shaking her lightly. "Rogue! Wake up!"

Clinging to the sound of his voice, Rogue tumbled into the darkness creeping into her mind.

Mama Cece was pushing eighty years old, seventy of which had been spent in the service of The Guild. The big Jamaican woman had come to this country with her smuggler father when she was just a child. Training herself in the arts of voodoo and herbal medicine, she was the best healer The Guild had ever known. Remy certainly prayed that her expertise would be enough here.

Moving at a pace typical of someone half her age, Cece sped into the room, hauling her carpetbag of supplies with her.

"Remy? What happed…Oh, so this is the child?" she asked rhetorically, moving the young man out of the way and settling her bulk on the edge of the bed. Lightly running her hands over the bandaged head wounds, she glared at Remy, pacing by her side. "Why was she not brought to me immediately?"

"Ah was given' orders not ta move her," he said in exasperation.

"Then why was I not brought to her?" The old woman began pulling things out of her bag as she spoke, setting an antique wooden bowl on her lap. Digging amongst the random vials in her sack, she pulled out a purple tinted one and poured its contents into the container.

"Look," Remy tried to explain, but knowing there would be no arguing with the woman. "It was jus' a cut. Ah took care of it."

"'It was jus' a cut,'" Cece mocked, now pulling a few strands of herbs from bag and popping them into her mouth. "No, it was Jasper beating in the side of her skull with a pipe. I'd call that more than a cut." Spitting the masticated herbs into her bowl, the healer began to stir the concoction with her finger, mixing in into a pale green paste. "Now make yourself useful boy, and gimme your knife," she ordered. Forking it over, Remy continued his nervous pacing, though even he was unsure why.

Cece took the dagger from the young man and gently cut the knot from the bandages on the girl's head.

"Be car'ful," the Cajun cautioned. "Don' touch her skin." Cece snorted contemptuously.

"I may be old, Lebeau, but I ain't senile. I saw what she did to Jasper. I know what I'm doing. Would you stand still already!" she hissed, proceeding to unwind the dressings with care. Remy froze mid-pace. He knew better than to irritate the elderly healer. Piss her off and you were likely to find your food tampered with. So he stood by the bedside, silently praying that, for the sake of his head and his father's health, Rogue wasn't seriously injured.

"Now, young Remy, while we both here, there's something I want to talk to you about," Mama Cece said in a rather hushed voice as the last of the bandages fell away, exposing the ugly head wound. Remy, completely focused on Rogue, could've sworn he saw the girl flinch at the woman's light touch. He caught himself reaching out to take the runaway's hand, to comfort her, and drew back immediately, embarrassedly delving his hands into his pockets. But Cece had noticed.

"Don't worry boy. Just a muscle twitch; she out cold. Not back to what I was saying. I know what Jean-Luc planning on doing with her." That got Remy's attention. Most knew that Rogue was here, but Remy was almost positive that his father's plans for her were being kept very discreet. Then, as if she'd read his mind Cece said, "C'mon, there ain't much that goes on down here that the good Mama don't know about. But that's beside the point," she muttered with a wave of her right hand. Her left was busy exploring Rogue's temple. "The point is you and I both know he's wrong."

"We do?" Remy asked, still not believing his ears.

"We do," she repeated, handing thrusting her bowl into the Cajun's prone hands and dipping her fingers into the gooey mess. "You especially." The tone of her voice made Remy think she was implying more than she was saying, but he didn't inquire as to what. Instead he tried not to grimace as Cece smeared the paste across Rogue's free-bleeding head. "This is one of those times in your life, Remy, where you have to make a choice where neither option is necessarily easy."

Remy was trying to process a lot at the moment. Between Rogue's injury and Mama Cece's sudden conversation topic, he was trying to focus best he could, with little success. Naturally, he was slightly confused.

"Wait, what choices?" he asked. Beside him, Rogue twitched lightly again. Cece sighed deeply, dipping her fingers again.

"What choices! Remy, this child has been placed in your care," she said in exasperation. "Her future is in your hands. And right now, her future is a life of slavery. To the Assassins, no less. And you," she poked a green stained finger into his chest, "have the ability to change all that."

"How? By just letting her go?" Remy asked, still a step behind. "But Jean and The Guilds,"

"Would be thrown back into turmoil, I know," Cece finished for him gravely. "That would be the downside to doing a good thing." She sighed deeply and, wiping her hands clean on her apron, began to apply fresh bandages to the wound. Remy set the bowl down by the bedside. "But can you live with yourself if you send this innocent into a life not of her own choosing."

"As opposed ta lockin' mys'lf inta a path dat Ah didn' chose?" Remy countered softly, looking at the ground, lost in thought.

"Yes, well that's the question that you have to answer," Cece said, gathering her bag together and inserting the now-empty bowl inside it. "You and only you Remy, can make this decision. No one else. Now, as far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened." She handed him a large bottle filled with a pale brown liquid.

"Give her a swig of this 'bout every two hours. It will help ease the swelling of the concussion she has. The dizziness I'm sure she's feeling will abate too. The paste should close the wound fairly quickly. Plenty of fluids and she'll be up and about in no time." Mama Cece gave the girl's leg an affectionate pat, and turned to go. "I'll be informing the Jean-Luc that the girl is not to be moved for several days. The rest is up to you, Remy." And with that, Mama Cece whirled out of the room, leaving Remy with one big dilemma.

"So, that's what's gonna happen to me, eh?"

Make that two big dilemmas

* * *

"And now…now I'm going to be used as some kinda weapon? For these Assassins?" Rogue demanded. Cursing Mama Cece under his breath, Remy had resumed his pacing. Turns out Rogue hadn't been as out of it as Cece had said, and the Cajun was pretty sure her thinking so wasn't just an honest mistake. But whether it was Cece's will, or some twist of fate, it didn't really matter anymore. Because the runaway was pretty well informed on what her future held, and, though still weak, she wasn't very happy about it. "So more people can be afraid of me? So I can have more blood on my hands? More people inmy head? I can't do it! I can't take this anymore!"

"Take what?" Remy hazarded to ask as she stopped for breath.

"Life? Being a freak? Existing locked inside my own skin? Being feared because of what I am? Take your pick!" Rogue screamed, tears filling in the corners of her eyes. _'How did this happen?'_ she asked herself. _'How did you screw up your life so frickin' badly?'_

"Even you, the master thief, you're afraid of me. I'm sure you didn't ask for this post. Hell, you'd be out of here fast as you could run if you had the choice. How'd you get stuck caring for the tradable freak? 'Cause you 'ain' dat high up on da ladder yet?'" she asked sarcastically, doing battle with the sadness inside her. For the first time in his life, Remy was rendered speechless

Though he'd never admit it to anyone, his heart ached for the girl…no, the woman in front of him. He couldn't fathom what it must be like to go through life a prisoner in your own skin. Sometimes he craved contact so badly that he'd settle for any girl willing. But to never touch…never be touched…well, it seemed like the worst punishment imaginable in his book.

Shaking his head sadly, Remy did the only thing he could think to do: answer her question.

"No chere," he said softly, moving towards the door, rubbing the rim of his glasses idly, "You in mah care 'cause, well, birds of a feather…" he mumbled, pulling off his glasses for the first time in her presence.

Red on black eyes pierced through the darkness to observe her where she lay. Rogue's breath caught in her throat as the Cajun left the room. 'He's a mutant too,' her stunned mind whispered. It's a good thing she was so distracted too, because her surprise kept her from hearing his soft whisper of,

"And Ah ain' runnin' anywhere. Not from you…"

* * *

A/N: Hi ya'all. Back again, 'nother chapter! 37 reviews, holy cow! Keep 'em coming everyone. And for all you Logan fans, don't worry. You'll be seeing him again very soon (cough next chapter cough). Kewlness. Thanks for all the helpful comments, guys. I love ya'all!

Now Review, I Command You (since doing that worked so well last time…)


	6. The Hunter and the Hunted

One Day Earlier:

It hadn't been very hard for Logan to figure out where Rogue was going. He simply waited five minutes until the platforms 7-12 ticket agent went out behind the station to have a cigarette. After the huffy man blew smoke in face and muttered that he 'didn't have to tell no strange men in alleys a thing' Logan presented him with two options. Opting not to be shish kebabed by the hairy Canadian, he'd given up the desired information with surprising speed, confirming that someone matching Rogue's description had gotten onto the train at platform 8 after buying a full ride ticket to Louisanna

Now 11 hours and two stolen tanks of gas later, Logan had just entered the outskirts of New Orleans. The trip was surprisingly shorter than he'd expected, but then again Scott's tricked out bike might have had something to do with that. Coasting the bike to a stop, Logan turned into the parking lot of a dingy looking bar, mentally laughing how pissed Scott must be by now, with his prized Harley MIA and all. Still laughing silently, Logan strolled into the bar, despite being completely broke. After all, he wasn't here to drink.

He was here for information.

* * *

One Day Earlier:

And speaking of Scott…

"I can't believe we got ass-whipped by those clowns Magneto called associates," he cursed under his breath, pacing about the room angrily as Jean suited up behind him. "I swear this Logan character is more trouble than he's worth! Now we have to go chasing after him as well as Rogue."

_"Something tells me their locations are going to be one in the same, Scott"_ Jean said telepathically. _"Now stop dwelling on about that fight and help me with this zipper."_ Scott sighed and obligingly finished zipping the back of his wife's leather uniform.

"I'm not dwelling," he muttered softly. Jean turned around and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

_"Stop trying to lie to your telepathic wife too. C'mon, everyone loses sometimes,"_ she cajoled. _"And it's not like anyone at the station got hurt."_ Scott snorted dejectedly. Blowing off half the roof at Grand Central Station had made him slightly cynical recently.

"Weren't you the one who put the stitches in the back of Ororo's head?" he asked bitterly as they both started to walk out of the room they shared.

"Okay, so no one got seriously injured," Jean admitted out-loud to her stubborn fiancé. "Besides, Storm's fine, which is why she's coming with me tonight.

"Which brings me to my next point: I really think I should tag along on this little venture," Scott said. "If you think that we're likely to get to Rogue and find Logan with her, then it's just as likely that Magneto has tracked him there as well," Scott ranted. Jean paused next to the elevator shaft that led down to the mansion's lower levels, including the Blackbird hangar, and put her hand on Scott's cheek.

"Don't worry so much sweetie," she whispered, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Rogue used her powers at some point, so Cerebro picked up her general location. It's just a matter of finding her precisely and shoving her onto the plane. If Logan happens to be with her, well then, saves us a trip. But ," she said, emphasizing the word, "Till he uses his powers we won't know where he is, which is why you need to stay here and man the fort. Just in case he comes back, or Charles locates him" The doors open with a WHOOSH behind her, and Jean planted another soft kiss onto Scott before stepping inside. "I'll see you later, sweetheart," she said as the doors started to close.

"Love you…be careful Jean," Scott called back. The doors closed and Jean was gone…almost.

_'Oh, and Scott, try and pry The Professor out of Cerebro for a little while okay? It's healthy for him to lock himself in their all day."_

'That's the Jean I know and love,' Scott thought to himself, turning around, back towards the elevator. 'Always worrying about everyone else.' Chuckling to himself, Scott tried to ignore the feeling of unease swelling in his stomach as he waited for the lift to open again. But as he stepped onto the now empty elevator, intent on fulfilling Jean's request, he couldn't help but feel jumpy. Walking out into the secret corridor that ran below most of the school, Scott felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was as if…as if he was being watched. Scanning the area quickly through his ruby-quartz glasses, Scott's fears were met with no proof. The hallway was completely empty.

'I really need to lay off the caffeine,' Scott thought to himself, walking down to the formidable doors that housed the Cerebro chamber and pressing his hand against the intercom button in the corner. 'I'm getting too paranoid.'

But Scott failed to see Bobby Drake watching him from the locker room alcove.

Failed to realize that he was right all along.

* * *

Present Day:

Mama Cece had given Remy a lot to think about, and the Cajun didn't think well sitting still. So he'd convinced…okay, more like blackmailed, Henri into caring for Rogue that night. Feeling better, but pretty wiped, she'd most likely sleep the entire time, or so he assured his brother. All he'd have to do was sit in the corner and make sure she didn't stop breathing or something. Henri wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea…but he was less thrilled with the possibility of Deborah finding out about that night at the bar, so he agreed.

The fresh air against his face was as soothing as a hot shower as far as Remy was concerned. Forcing his way against the crowd on the main boulevard, he fought down the urge to procure some beckoning wallets. No, he wasn't here on Guild business he reminded himself. This was personal. But unfortunately his thoughts were leading him in the same circle that his feet were. By his fourth lap around the block he was no closer to reaching a decision than when he was during his first. Finally, his tired feet decided to lead him home, where he promptly sat down on the front porch of the old plantation house known as Guild HQ, and stared out at the sun, setting slowly beyond the bayou. It wasn't until the figure slinking around in the shadows walked up to him that he realized he wasn't alone

Maddie was one of the many Lebeau cousins working for The Guild. And judging by the way she strutted onto the rickety porch, she was just as proficient in her craft as the rest of her family. Tossing her auburn tresses haughtily, she sided up to Remy.

"Well, well, well. Do mah eyes deceive me, or is dat Remy Lebeau, free from his ball 'n chain?"

"You pretty chipper dere, half pint," he said, standing up just so he could have the pleasure or reaching down to ruffle her hair. Maddie had half a year on him age wise, but he was easily half a foot taller, and he used it for all her was worth. "Good haul?"

"You bet. Tourist bus outside the French Quarter. Took 'em for all dey was wort," she boasted, leaning against a railing to rest as they talked. "So, why you back on normal duty 'gain? Jean-Luc finally realize dat girl's past too much of a li'bility?" That got Remy's attention, snapping him out of his slightly dazed state.

"What? Whatcha talkin' 'bout Mads?" he asked. She flashed him another sardonic smile.

"Word on da street has it dat your charge is bein' hunted. For da last few days now. You hadn't heard?" She sounded generally surprised and Remy couldn't blame her. Around these parts, Remy was usually the most informed one. Only two days off the job and he was already falling behind on the news. That couldn't be good.

"Non! Not a single word," he muttered, cussing under his breath. Grabbing Maddie's shoulders, he gave her a little shake for effect. "Madds, dis terribly 'portant: what 'xactly did you hear?" he demanded, speaking clearly and slowly to hold the hyper girl's attention.

Scarred by her cousin's manic reaction, Maddie shrugged her shoulder's to loosen Remy's grip and took a few steps backward.

"Cool it Remy!" she shot back, giving him a funny look. "Look, I ain' heard all dat much. Jus' dat someone, or a few someones, been goin' 'round down town, lookin' for a girl lik dat, who showed up here on a train. But you know where ta find info betta dan I do," she said sullenly. "But I…Hey! Where you goin?" Maddie demanded as Remy suddenly tore off the porch and into the building without so much as a 'thank you'. Huffily, Maddie took his now empty seat, wondering if her cousin was, perhaps, possessed.

Remy rushed down into the modified basement of the structure and found Henri seated outside Rogue's door, looking sullen. Although, the black-eye he was sporting could have had something to do with his mood. Feigning calmness, Remy slowed down and strolled up to him haughtily.

"So, babysittin' ain't as easy as you t'ought, non?" he asked. Henri looked up from the book he was reading and, promptly closed it and chucked it at his brother. It hit Remy square in the chest.

"OW! What da hell was dat for?" the Cajun demanded, as his brother got to his feet. "Ah tol' ya ta be careful 'round her." Henri sulked past him and then turned towards the stairs, muttering,

"Dat is da las' time Ah evea do anyting for you, bro. You owe me…" Remy waited 'till his brother's footsteps resounded across the floorboards over head before bolting into the room, locking the door behind him.

"A'righ', you need ta come clean wit me righ' now," Remy fumed, spotting Rogue right where he'd left her: seated on the edge of the bed, staring into space.

"Alright, I admit it," she said, almost gleefully. "I socked your brother. So what?" Remy rolled his eyes.

"Not dat, smart-ass," he shot back, striding over to stand right in front of her. Rogue's head suddenly snapped in his direction as she glared at him dangerously. Obviously she didn't take kindly to being called names, but Remy didn't care. He didn't have time to care. "Who you runnin' from Rogue?" She glared at him even harder.

"What are you talking about?" she murmured. Remy was fed up, he did not have the time for this. Not when it was her life, and possibly the future of The Guild, on the line. Couldn't she understand the seriousness of the situation?

"Ah'm talking about all sorts of strangers, crawlin' all ober dis town," he said, pointing at her dangerously, "lookin' fer you." That got her to her feet. Wobbling unsteadily, she shot up from the bed.

"What?" There was fear in her eyes, threatening to spill over, and her pretty face had gone stark white. "For me?"

Rogue's mind was racing. She hadn't exactly left the school on good terms, and Bobby had said the Professor was angry with her. But was it that bad? Had the X-Men come to hunt her down for her so-called crime? Was Logan…was he out to kill her now, too? Nervous, and now off balance, her feet still bound, she pitched forward. Remy leapt out, nimbly, and caught her in mid air. Then, before she could react, he reached deep into the back of his coat and revealed a switchblade. Utterly terrified, Rogue threw her hands in front of her face, expecting the end any minute. But it never came.

Instead Remy got down on his knees and cut the bindings around her ankles.

"Wha…what are you doing?" Rogue asked, at a loss for words.

Remy had seen enough. There had been enough emotion on her face, enough terror in the poor runaway's eyes for him to see that she was in real trouble. And in that moment it stopped being about the Guild, or the Assassins. There was no feud, no unions, no attempts at peace. There was just this girl…This girl whose care and health had been entrusted into his hands. And Remy was going to do all he could to keep her safe…just as he'd been told

No matter what.

But that meant getting her out of here first. Angrily, he grabbed the fabric of her cloak and pressed it against her mouth.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh!" he hissed at her. "You wanna get us both caught?" Rogue shook her head, and Remy dropped his arm. Then, to himself, "I cain't believe I doin' dis…"

"Doing what?" Rogue demanded again, quieter this time. Eyes once again shrouded behind his glasses, Rogue felt Remy's piercing gaze meet her's. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Remy spoke softly as he cut the ropes restraining her hands.

"Ah', lettin' you go."

* * *

A/N: Oh yeah! Logan goodness. Just to clarify, Logan and Scott/Jean's little segments took place a day before the Rogue/Remy segment above, to show that both groups got into town slightly before (for Logan) and after (for Jean/Storm) Rogue got mugged and used her powers. And I'm changing things around a little because Cerebro is just too easy an answer in the movies. So I'm making it like the cartoons, where Cerebro can only locate a mutant when they use their powers (just to make things a little more exciting). So let's review: Rogue's been in the Guild's care for two full days, Logan's been in New Orleans looking for her for two days (as he got in before the train, but couldn't locate her), And Jean and Storm have been there for about a day and a half. Now…review…please? Pretty please?

Pretty please with a sugar coated bunny on top?


	7. Shadows of the Past

""Scuse me?" Rogue sputtered, shaking her head slightly. "What did you just say?" Remy once again thrust the collar of her cloak over the girl's mouth

"Shhhhhh!" he hissed angrily. "Don' make meh regret doin' dis!" Rogue grabbed the wrist of her right hand in her left, rubbing where the tough ropes had pinned the fabric of her leather gloves against the skin. Remy sheathed his knife and got off the floor, his attention now focused on the wall, or rather, the narrow window near the ceiling. Rogue hopped to her feet, thrilled to be able to do so once again, and quickly made a beeline for the door. Hand reaching for the knob, she was surprised to find it locked. Turning on heel, she rounded on her captor.

"What gives?" she demanded. "I thought you were letting me go?" Remy chuckled, pulling the rusty folding chair over to the wall.

"Tink girl," he chided. "Half da Guild in here righ' now. You cain't just go struttin' out da front door."

"Great, so how do you plan on doing this exactly?" she asked huffily, planting her hands on her hips and fighting off the urge to give Remy a shiner to match his brother's. His chuckling turned to outright laughter and Rogue was actually cocking her fist when Remy pointed to the window.

"T'rough dere, soon as I get it open." He hopped onto the chair and began examining the boards covering the narrow frame. "We in da basement, on da backside of da house. We jus' pop dis off and be on our way." That stopped Rogue's fist mid-swing.

"We?" Remy planted his feet on the wall and, gripping the boarded mass in his fists, leaned back and pulled. The boards didn't budge. Rearing back his fists, he began banging randomly, looking for rotten spots as he spoke.

"Yeah, we," he said mockingly, regarding Rogue out of the corner of his eye. "'Cause I highly doubt you can find your way back ta N'Orleans in the dark, by yo'self." Turning back to his task, Remy was having little success removing their 'roadblock.' Meanwhile, Rogue was busy catching flies in her open mouth.

"So you're…you're coming with me?"

"Close our mouth dere, chere. I t'ought I already answered dat question," he said, banging futilely on the beams. Then finally, "screw dis crap!" Frustrated and running out of time, Remy stuck his hand through the tangled mess of wood and closed his eyes.

"What did you mean…" Rogue started to ask, then stopped shorts as the normal wood began to glow bright purple. "What the hell…"

"No time for dat, babe," Remy muttered, leaping of the chair and grabbing roughly by the shoulder, hurling them both into the corner. "Fire in da hole." Remy shielded her body with his own as the boarded up mess blew to pieces with a loud bang. Bits of twisted wood and nails ricocheted off the walls and Rogue peered out from behind her protector and looked through the billowing smoke.

"What the hell did you do?" she asked, looking at the now open window in shock. Remy was up and moving thought, hauling himself through the narrow opening, carefully avoiding bits of stray glass. Forcing his feet through behind him, he turned and stuck his head back inside to where Rogue was still standing in the same spot, staring dumbly.

"Look Roguey, dat wasn't 'xactly the discreet exit Ah was plannin' on," he said, masking his frustration. "You wanna go, it's now or never." Rogue took one last glance about her, and then back to Remy. She sure as hell didn't trust the man who'd been holding her here for so long, but he was on the outside. And whatever was out there, was certainly better than what was in this room. Covering the distance between them in her long strides, she leapt onto the chair, grabbed his hand firmly, and crawled back to freedom.

* * *

"This is disgusting," Rogue muttered, shaking her scum coated foot. Then spitting out a mouth full of leaves as she walked straight into a low hanging branch. Remy neither stopped nor slowed to accommodate her.

Turns out the reason The Guild had gained possession of the plantation so easily because it's pretty damn hard to grow tobacco on a bayou, which is pretty much a swamp, but with a better name. So, Rogue had followed Remy out of the house and into the surrounding marsh in a desperate attempt to escape imprisonment, only to find herself imprisoned in mud and murky water. Remy knew where he was going, but in the dark, and with an unseasoned companion, it was slow going. Plus, taking the direct route to New Orleans wasn't really an option as it cut across the main path of every Guild member in the state. So they were stuck, mucking it the hard way. Desperate to shake off the feeling that she was being watched by all manner of creepy crawlies and to fight off the horror movie-esq silence, Rogue was doing her best to fill the silence.

"Back there, what you did?" she asked. "Was that you're power?" Silence. "It was pretty impressive. Wish I could do something like that," she murmured. Still no reply. Alright, new topic…

"So, what are you going to do with me?" Remy kicked a bush out of his way, not really feeling like talking, but not wanting to piss the girl off again.

"First, we gonna stop by a friend o' mine's," he said softly, not wanting to dwell on that thought. "We gonna bet you a new look, new name, and try and smuggle ya outta here."

"So, whatcha going to tell them once I'm gone. Won't they wonder what happened and why you disappeared?" Remy ignored her question except for a slight shrug. Sighing, Rogue ducked to avoid a swing branch and tired, once again, to break the silence.

"So tell me about your family. You must not have a lot in common since you didn't seem to have inherited the same perverted tendencies as your brother." That got him going. Between gritted teeth he muttered,

"Henri ain't perverted."

"I rolled over on the bed and he grabbed my ass!" A small chuckle burst through Remy's lips. 'Well,' he thought to himself, 'dat explains da shiner Henri was wearin'' Then out loud,

"Granted dat makes him a moron, but he ain't a pervert. Henri jus' got a predisposition fo' da ladies, dats all." Alright, so Henri had had his fair share of issues with chasing those of the opposite sex, but Remy felt Rogue didn't need to know all the embarrassing details. The ensuing silence gave Rogue's mouth the chance to run off with out the consent of her brain.

"Predisposition? That's a pretty big word there," she heard herself saying, wishing she could call the words back. Remy wished she had too. He was worm thin and tired. Risking it all for a girl you barely know would do that, and now she couldn't even bee pleasant to him. He'd just given up everything he held dear…for her. And this was how she treated him? He stopped his forward progress, whirling sharply and pointing his finger in Rogue's face.

"Look here kid," he said, falling back on the insult that always got to him, "just 'cause Ah'm a t'ief don't make me stupid! Ah'm doin' dis all for you, ya know!" he shouted, rattling the trees themselves. "The least ya could do is show some gratitude." Rogue had other ideas though. She shoved his hand out of her face, crying,

"Oh, gratitude. You want gratitude? For what, kidnapping me? Or, or holding me against my will? What, now you've had a sudden change of heart and I'm just supposed to roll over and kiss your feet? I don't think so!"

"Ah ne'er said dat…" Remy interjected, but Rogue was on a roll now.

"And then you decided that you want to help me? How do I know that you're not just leading me away to kill me, or trade away, or whatever the hell it is you people do to captives? Huh?

"…Ah'm jus' tryin' to help you…"

"Ah don't recall asking for your help!" she shrieked.

"You wouldn't last two seconds out here!" he cried back, equally as loud. Good thing they were a few miles from HQ, because their volume was scaring birds into the air.

"I'd be better off without you!" Rogue vented. "So why don't you just run off, back to your little thief club, and let me get back to living my miserable excuse for a life!" Remy was tempted, but his conscience wouldn't allow it.

"Ah cain't go back!" he finally admitted The entire Bayou stood still for a full five seconds. Everything from the beating of Rogue's heart to the chirping of the summer cicadas. Not a sound was heard until,

"What?" she finally sputtered out.

"Ah told you," Remy said with a disgusted sigh. "The Guild is family. And Ah jus' committed da ultimate crime agains' dem: putting mah own well bein', and yours, before dat of da Guild's. I cain't go back." Remy was panting from yelling and the pent up sadness and desperation welling inside his chest. Rogue dropped her head to cover up her disgrace.

"I'm sorry. I…I didn't know." She was utterly mortified. At her behavior, at their little shouting match. But in her own defense, she'd had no idea.

"Rogue, what you don't know is a lot."

"So why did you…why?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Why help me? Why me…over your family?"

"Ah don' know why. Chere, you an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and you pullin' me in. But lik it or not, you an' Ah? We in dis together. So getting along migh' not be a bad ideah." Then he turned and resumed walking, as if nothing had happened. As if acting on their own will, Rogue's feet followed. Noting had changed…and yet everything seemed to have.

Silently, they had both agreed to an invisible pact. Agreed to follow where the other led. Agreed to follow the hearts that were leading them without rhyme or reason. Agreed to stick together. There, alone in the middle of the muddy Bayou, the thief and the runaway reached a truce. Silently, the duo pressed onward into the darkness.

* * *

New York might be called the city that never sleeps, but the term seemed more applicable to New Orleans. Rogue and Remy had trekked all across Louisiana, putting as much distance between them and The Thieves Guild HQ as possible. But still, even taking the long way, they eventually reached the city. Shortly after 7:00 am in fact. And despite the early morning hours, and the fact that it was Sunday, the sidewalks were still jammed with people. It might as well have been a Friday night during Mardi Gras to judge by the population in the move.

Tired, damp, and streaked with mud, Remy paused to lean against the wall of a derelict warehouse, just on the fringes of the main drag, and practically invisible to the crowds moving past. Rogue let out a muted sigh and leaned back beside him. Somewhere along their hike her bandages had snagged on a low lying branch and, unable to untie them in the dark, she'd torn them off. Mama Cece's paste had done wonders, as usual, reducing Rouge's gash to a fading scab and scar. Remy was struck by how pretty the girl seemed without the white wrappings obscuring half her head. It was because he was still so focused on her that the issue of the cloak occurred to him.

"Here, gimme dat ting," he ordered, stripping the forest green cloak off Rogue's right shoulder. "Ya stick out lik a sore t'umb in it." Shoving his hands aside, Rogue yanked the clasp apart and shucked out of the warm garment, folding it up and draping it over the Cajun's outstretched arm

Remy, in turn, peeled off his trench coat and draped it across her narrow shoulders, prom date with tuxedo jacket style.

"Now listen," he began, and Rogue sighed to herself. He had that lecture tone going again. "We ain't goin' far, but keep ya head down so it be harder ta spot ya…"

"Alright," she muttered, undoing her ponytail so her rich, auburn locks obscured her face, and thrusting her brightly gloved hands into her pockets.

"…don' ask questions when we get out dere, don' make a scene…"

"Alright," Rogue said again, patience quickly waning, but Remy was not quite done. Not just yet.

"…and, for da love o' God, don' do nuthin' stupid."

"ALRIGHT!" she screeched, exasperated. A few heads in the crowd turned to look their direction at her shout. Remy clamped his hand down on her shoulder in an iron grip and wrenched her upper body to within an inch of his

"Lik dat," he whispered violently into her ear. Rogue could feel the anger pulsating through him and was instantly sorry. After all, he was doing this to help her.

"Sorry," she murmured sullenly, averting her face from his, instantly aware of how close they were. Rogue hated looking at Remy only to see herself reflected in those expressionless glasses. She would have much rather looked him square in the eyes, despite how strange they may have looked.

Trying to look anywhere but at his face, Rogue's gaze landed on something silver and glinting tucked into Remy's belt. A lighter maybe? But she didn't have time to ponder the mystery for long because Remy's arm snaked off her shoulder and coiled around her waist, pinning her still pocketed hands and arms to her side. Despite herself, Rogue tensed slightly under his grip. He noticed, and felt a little hurt, but said nothing in that regard. Instead,

"Put your head on mah shoulder," he instructed into her ear, and for once in her life Rouge didn't protest. Then, looking like a perfectly happy (slightly muddy) young couple, the duo forced their way into the crowd, allowing themselves to be swept into the mass and pushed along. Moments later they were gone.

Rogue was positive that Remy must have been lying about not going far. Her feet were throbbing terribly and she felt as if they if they'd combed all of New Orleans three times over. But still the Cajun pressed onwards, still pressing Rogue tightly to his side, dragging her along at his brisk pace. Inclining her head slightly off his shoulder, she asked in a hushed voice,

"Where are we going?" Remy didn't say anything, but his stiff 'Ah-em!' was answer enough. He was pissed about her 'no questions' violation and now was not the time or place for another debate. Too exhausted for another confrontation, Rogue resettled her head, closing her mouth and opening her other senses. Strangely, being so close to Remy, he smelled like bourbon and fresh earth. Shaking that thought from her mind, she noted that, as they continued, the buildings got worse and worse. Fine dining and pricey hotels fading to Laundromats and Adult bookstores. After several more blocks of treading on and on, Remy finally stopped in front of their destination.

Les Charme Français Apartments were far less glamorous than their name implied. The courtyard was U-shaped, containing a circular reflecting pool and the remnants of a brass fountainhead. Literally. The only part of the of the ceramic cherub statue that remained was the head, attached to a rusted bronze pipe. The small shrubs and potted plants that had probably been quite charming in their prime, were either dead or close to it, fading to the same dingy brown of the apartments themselves. The finished effect gave the place a very eerie feel. Remy, however, seemed unperturbed. He paused, though, when he realized that Rogue had stopped short, preoccupied with looking around.

"Comin'?" he demanded, one foot poised to move up the rickety stair case in the corner. Rogue walked swiftly over to him.

"So, I take it I can talk now?" she shot back, saucily, bounding up the steps. Remy had just stepped off the first floor landing and was making his way up to the second when he turned and shot her a look.

"If ya must," the Cajun muttered in exasperation. Heart beating nervously as he climbed, Remy would have rather been anywhere than here, but with Rogue in trouble, he really had no other options. And speak of the devil…

"What exactly are we doing here?" Rogue panted, suddenly appearing by his side at the top of the stairs. The apartments were connected and accessed by a balcony/hallway curving around the courtyard and sheltered by a narrow roof. Turing right onto said walkway, Remy didn't answer. Instead he snaked his arms around the runaway's waist once more and led her to door 2B. His face, appearing perfectly calm despite the twisted feeling in his gut, bore a grim smile as he knocked firmly on the door. There was a moment of pause before,

"Who's dere?" called a feminine voice from within, muffled by the door. Remy cleared his throat nervously.

"It's meh." The woman within didn't answer right away, and Remy seemed to be holding his breath. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of silence, Rogue heard the distinct Thunk Thunk of heels or boots making their way towards the door from inside. Whoever was inside fiddled with a simple chain lock that tinkled as it was handled, and finally, although with some hesitancy on the part of the occupant, the door opened.

First one slender leg, and then another appeared as the woman stepped out of the doorway and onto the balcony, regarding the duo before her. Strikingly beautiful, her golden tresses were pulled back to the nape of her neck half-hazardly. Intense brown eyes scanned Remy and Rogue with a calculating look from beneath delicately arched brows. Well muscled arms, hidden beneath a simple gray shirt, crossed over her breasts as she spoke.

"Well Remy. It's been a while," she murmured with an accent typical of all the locals. Her lips parted in a sad smile as she waited for a response. Remy gave Rogue's waist a comforting squeeze as he said,

"It has. Rogue," he turned his face back to hers, "'llow meh ta introduce Belladonna Boudreaux, mah ex-fiancé."

* * *

A/N: Hey ya'll! Thanks for all the reviews. Sorry for the delay in updates, but school started and I've been a little busy. But I'll keep updating, never fear. And you should all keep reading, cause things just got interesting and I've got something special planned for next chapter. A fight that you wouldn't believe…think Remy vs….well, you'll have to wait and see. Catch ya on the flip side :) 


	8. Hearts Together, Hearts Apart

Rogue's recovered from her shock rather quickly. 'Fiancé?' thee little voice in her head asked. 'He was almost married? This guy?' Looking at Remy, standing beside her in his faded jean and black tee-shirt, his hair tousled and hands muddy, he hardly looked the 'tie the knot and settle down' type. But to such a though, the little voice in her head counted with a query of, 'why do you care?'

Surprisingly, Rogue didn't have an answer. At least not one that would have made the situation better.

"Cute l'il intro Remy, but watcha doin' here?" Belladonna asked, snapping Rogue out of her daze. Remy, his arm snaked around her waist, gave her a gentle squeeze. Sighing deeply, he said,

"'Donna…Ah need your help."

* * *

The apartment was surprisingly clean despite all external appearances. Rogue sipped lightly at the strong coffee she was nursing. Curled into a ball on the couch, one of the room's sparse furnishings, she strained to hear the voices in the room beyond, but was unable to. After Remy's confession, Belladonna had ushered them both inside, settling the exhausted girl on the sofa and requesting a private word with her former lover. That was twenty minutes ago. Now Rogue was torn between being antsy and impatient, and falling asleep from the exhausting trek the night before.

The night before…wow. It had only been a few hours, but to Rogue it felt as if all the pervious days event had occurred a lifetime ago. And the X-Men, the one's who'd saved her, taken her in and offered her a home, were they really hunting her down now? It seemed incomprehensible. But then again, she never expected to be on the run with a smooth-talking Cajun criminal, so who was she to talk. Suddenly, the incoherent mumbling that echoed softly through the room turned back into real voices as Remy and Belladonna filed out, one behind the other. Rogue might have been mistaken, but she thought Donna's eyes looked a little redder than before.

Jumping to her feet, she started to ask,

"What'er we doi," but she stopped when Remy reached the door. He'd taken his trench coat back and looked as if he had every intention of leaving.

"Look, girl," he started, "you gonna stay wit 'Donna here for a l'il while." He opened the door a crack and prepared to slink through, but found himself unable to move. Glancing back, he found Rogue gripping his coat in her strong fingers.

"Don't leave," she pleaded, surprising herself. "I don't want you to go." He smirked slightly as she blushed. Prying her hand off his coat, he held it lightly in his own for a moment.

"Now Ah ain' leavin', hun. Ah'll be back later," he assured her genuinely, but then couldn't resist adding, "Now you be a good l'il girl while Ah'm gone." Suddenly very aware of her compromising position, Rogue jerked her hand back to her chest and held it there, glaring dangerously as the door closed with a soft click.

"Now c'mon girl, Ah don' know jus' how much time we got, but Ah'd sure as hell hate to run out of it," Belladonna said softly from behind, where she sat perched on the arm of the couch. Rouge turned and gave her the same blank look, still holding her arm limply to her chest. She was having just a little trouble keeping up, and she didn't like the feeling.

"Run out of time for what?" she asked suspiciously. 'Donna grabbed her by the wrist and led her stupidly into what happened to be a cramped bathroom before saying,

"We gotta create a whole new you."

* * *

"So, where'd ya get a name like Rogue?" The silence was peppered by the sound of splashing water from where 'Donna was washing something in the sink. "Yer Momma not lik you er somethin'?" Rogue buried her head in her hands from where she sat perched on the lip of the rust-stained bathtub. Clad in nothing but a secondhand robe, she really wasn't in the mood for _this_ conversation, but she also had no desire to piss this woman off. Especially considering how pleasant she was being. Hiding her eyes behind dripping wet locks of hair she softly muttered,

"It's not my given name. It's the name I took for myself." The explanation sounded stupid the moment she said it aloud, but Belladonna just nodded, muttering,

"Ah." In the cramped space, she finally spun from the sink, facing Rogue who jumped back. Donna glanced at the shears she was brandishing in her hand, and dropped the tip. "Sorry."

Rogue took a deep breath, slowing her racing heart. "What are you going to do with those?" she demanded. Alright, finally getting clean was nice, but she drew the line at things that involved pointy objects.

"Der scissors. What you tink Ah'm gonna do wit dem?" Belladonna asked sarcastically. "We gonna give you a l'il trim." Rogue flew off her butt and almost impaled herself once again.

"Oh no!" she cried, crossing her arms resolutely over her chest. "No one said anything about cutting my hair." Donna put a hand on the girl's shoulder and, with surprising strength, pushed her back down onto the tub.

"Look," she began in a no-nonsense tone, "Yer hair, it'll grow back. But if you get caught, yer neck won'. Trust me, a new 'do is da best disguise." Rogue continued to glare. "Ah promise Ah'll make it look good." The runaway finally tossed up her hands, admitting defeat.

"Fine, do your worst." 'Donna smirked and went right to work, making sure not to nick Rogue, who winced with every falling lock. Desperate to take her mind off her current situation (and rapidly shrinking amount of hair) Rogue fired back with a personal question of her own.

"Did you love him?" The snap, snap of the scissors paused for a brief second, and Rogue worried that she might have crossed the line. But finally the cutting resumed as the woman spoke, choosing each word carefully.

"Ah…Ah guess Ah was in love wit de ideah of him," she said slowly. "It was…such a complicated situation." She shrugged, but Rogue had to know more, and before she could stop them, the words had already crossed her lips.

"What happened between you two?" "Donna sighed, and Rouge heard her sit down beside her.

"Da Thieves and da Assassins 'ave been fightin' fer as long as Ah can remember," she began in a very 'story-teller' voice. "When Ah was sixteen, mah great-uncle died, leavin' mah father ta lead durin' one of the guild's most troubled times," Rogue didn't mean to interrupt as it appeared that this was a difficult subject for 'Donna to discuss, but she was quite lost.

"I though Remy's dad was the guild leader?"

"He is," the blonde replied, "fer da thieves." The little light bulb clicked on over Rogue's head.

"You mean…you're an assassin?" she demanded. 'Donna chuckled softly under her breath, a proud smile playing over her lips.

"Yup, born an' raised."

"Wow…I had no idea…." Rogue muttered, "so, what happened after your Dad took over?"

"Well, mah father had some diff'rent ideahs about leadin'. He'd seen too many men, boys, fall to der deaths 'cause of senseless issues we was all too stubborn ta put behind us." Her gaze softened as she continued. "Couple years later da LeBeau 's took over dere neck o' da woods, and Jean-Luc shared some o' da same views as mah father. So one nigh' dey met in secret to try and find a solution to da madness. What dey came up wit was an inter-guild union- a marriage."

"Romeo and Juliet style?" Rogue interjected.

"'Xactly. It worked jus' 'bout as well as it did in da book, too," she said sarcastically. "At da time, Henri was already betrothed to a 'nuther, so Jean-Luc offered Remy from his line. Mah father offered me," he voice got slightly softer…sadder as she spoke. "Ah was jus' twenty, Remy was a young eighteen. Mah father was so thrilled when he told me, so sure he had jus' saved our clan. And Ah…well Ah knew who Remy was. E'ery girl did; he was quite da catch. But I didn' _know_ him, not really. Ah was so thrilled. Ah'd get ta help mah family, mah friends, plus Ah'd get ta be da wife of the most sought after man in N'Orleans. We started meetin', in secret o' course, and Ah t'ought Ah was in love. Ah t'ought Remy was too.

"So, what went wrong?" Rogue asked.

"One nigh', few months before da union, he cam ta see meh, outta da blue. An' he said dat, for da good o' everyone he loved, he would remain fait'ful ta meh, best he could. But, for da first time, Ah saw regret in his eyes," she was looking past thee dingy bathroom wall now, peering back into a memory only she could see. "He…he didn' wanna marry meh, and…Ah realized dat Ah really didn' want to eit'er. We was so diff'rent, and forcing dis upon two kids jus' wasn' fair ta either one o' us."

"So, what did you do?" Rogue demanded, captivated in the story.

"Ah ran," she admitted after a moment. "Remy was so stubborn dat he would've gone t'rough wit it all for da sake of da family. Ah…Ah wasn' so amenable. Ah knew mah father would ne'er accept mah decision , and Ah needed mah freedom. So Ah picked up and ran," she admitted sadly, turning to look Rogue in the eye. Frighteningly, she saw tears there. "I lef' da Guild's to dere own means and Ah ran."

Rogue dropped her gaze, focusing on the grimy tile pattern below her bare feet ass the story flowed all over her. It was so unfair, these young people thrown into a problem not their not their own. Kind of like all the kids at the school, thrust into a world that hated them, without a chance to protest or plead. So much unfairness in the world, inflicted on generation after generation. So much hatred… Belladonna broke the silence by clearing her throat.

"'Bout two months after Ah left, Remy tracked me down. Ah 'ave no idea how," she said as she resumed cutting, "but that's Remy for you: full of surprises. Ah begged him not ta tell anyone where Ah was."

"And…?" Rogue prompted after a moment's pause.

"Ah've been here almost two years now, and far as Ah know, he ain't told a soul." A final snip penetrated the silence of the air before 'Donna said, "Dere, all done," with a (careful) flourish of her hands. Digging around in a drawer, she handed Rogue a crack hand mirror. Almost frightened at what she'd see, Rogue cracked an eyelid, and was pleased at the reflection that greeted her. She had to hand it to Bella, the girl was good with a pair of scissors.

"Thanks," Rogue muttered appreciatively, playing with the ends of her hair, which now fell even with her chin. She was startled when 'Donna forced the mirror away and was looking at her on the level, kneeling on the floor. There was something deep and penetrating in her gaze.

"Rogue," she prompted, "Ah want you to promise meh somethin'," The runaway nodded. "Don' break his heart." Rogue's heart skipped a beat, her mouth moving compulsively before she managed a confused,

"What," but 'Donna pressed a finger against her lips, miming for Rogue to be quiet.

"Don'," she said. "Ah can jus' tell by da way he looks at ya. He cares fer ya, hun. An' unless mah radar's way off, you feel somethin' fer him too. He's a rarity among men, 'specially in dese parts. Noble and strong and loyal…Ah jus' need you to promise meh dat you'll be good to 'im, dat you won' break his heart." Lost and tumbling in a whirl of emotion, Rogue caught herself nodding. Belladonna removed her finger, a satisfied look on her face. She leapt gracefully to her feet and out the door, looking back at the shell-shocked Rogue, still poised on the edge of the tub.

"C'mon girl, get yer tush movin'. We cain't have you walkin' outside in yer birthday suit." A strange comfort easing over her being, the girl obediently followed.

* * *

The smoke in the dank building hung thick and low in the air, concealing those within. That was a good thing if you were on the run, a bad thing if you were looking for someone. Remy fit into both of those categories.

Strolling over to the bar, Remy perched on the edge of a stool, and was immediately noticed by the bartender. And ancient man with a face like well worn leather, he moved with a shuffled gait, salt-and-pepper hair framing his face in two, long braids. He smiled slowly when he spied the Cajun.

"Remy." He nodded slowly, dark eyes glinting with mischief worthy of someone half his age. "S'been a while, boy. Wha' can I getcha ya?" He picked up a shot glass in his hand and began wiping it down with a filth covered rag. "Da usual?"

"Naw, Chief," Remy drawled. "Ah ain't drinkin' today. Ah'm lookin' for information."

Chief set down the shot glass and leaned against the counter. Years ago he'd had a real name, but it had been lost somewhere along the way. Come up from Florida, he was descendant of a Seminole Indian tribe, but they had died out too, just like his name. So round New Orleans he was simply Chief, owner of the ransacked bar 'cross town, a common haunt for lowlifes, thieves, and lonely women. Course, being a bartender for such, Chief was also an invaluable resource to someone in a profession such as Remy's. He was counting on the man to come through in the clutch as he always did. This would be the last time he'd have to,

"Well, buy a drink, an' de information's free," he said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a bottle from his personal stash. The dark whisky that filled the shot glass was strong enough to make even the biggest men's eyes water, but Remy though it back without so much as blinking. The old man chuckled appreciatively as the glass was slammed back down against the counter, dry as before. "Ya hold yer liquor like yer old man," he murmured. "So, what 'xactly ya wanna know this time?" Remy scanned the are quickly, leaning in low to the bar.

"Anyone in here, past c'ple days, askin' 'bout a runaway girl?"

"Dis wouldn't have anyting to do wit dat girl your Guild caught da ot'er day, would it?" Chief asked back with that glint in his eye. Remy cussed low under his breath.

"Which one was jarrin' off dis time 'round?" he asked, his forehead resting on the edge of the bar. The old barkeep chuckled again, a disconcerting sound that raised the hair on the back of your neck.

"None other den yer old pal Touley."

"Merdre," Remy muttered under his breath, slamming a fist against the rickety bar. Touley was determined to make his life miserable, he just knew it.

"So, what's your interest in dis girl, Remy? Lookin' to add anot'er name to your list o' conquered women?" Chief knew, probably better than anyone, just how many hearts Remy had broken in this town. Many of women had sadly drunk away their broken hearts at this very bar.

"Shut up Chief," he said with vexation. "Anyone else?"

"Oh yeah, dere been a bunch of people," the old man drawled, loving the fact that he was in control. "Da firs' was dis kinda short guy on a big bike. Asked a lotta questions, had a passion fer his cigars, liked imported beer. Canuck if Ah e'er saw one." Remy stored the description in the back of his mind.

"Da second?"

"Well, she…" the bartender began when Remy cut him off.

"She? One's a woman?"

Actually, two be women. Anyways, da second woman came in a l'il after da man lef'. Pretty red head," he said, whistling low under his breath. "Shouldn' been walkin' in here at da hour she did, but wouldn' listen ta anyting Ah had ta say on da matter. Sat at dar bar, nursed a beer, lef' alone, though lotsa men woulda been willin'."

"An' da last one?" Remy prompted, wishing her could get the old man to talk faster. But Chief always was slow with the tongue, but quick with the liquor, and today seemed to be no exception.

"Ah…she in here just las' night. Blonde, leggy, easy lookin'. Pretty as sin, mean as a water moccasin, she did shots, asked lotsa questions, and knocked a guy on his ass when he tried ta pick 'er up."

"And what, 'xactly, did you tell 'em Chief?" Remy asked, cocking an eyebrow. Chief shot him a wicked grin.

"Dat I ain't heard nothin' or seen da liks o' such a girl." Remy slid Chief a bill as he got up and headed to the door.

"Dat oug't ta be enough to cover da drink an' your silence," he said. "Dat 'cluded Guild boys too, got it?" Chief looked down at the money but didn't take it.

"Hey, you got it, kid," he said, as the thief forced the swinging door open, barely visible through the smoke. "Hey Gambit," he called as an afterthought, using an alias Remy hadn't gone by in years. "Good luck." The Cajun stuck his head back through the door.

"Don' call me dat," he called back, slipping his head out, letting the door close behind him with a dull SQUEAK as the rusty hinges were forced to move. Chief just chuckled, shoving the bill deep into his pocket and resuming his shot glass cleaning, completely oblivious to the SQUEAK that signaled someone else leaving as well.

* * *

Remy was distracted. That was the only way he could account for what happened. In his rush to get back and check on the girls he was careless with his travel, where he went and how he got there. Making short work of the mile and a half walk, he never even paused long enough to notice he was being followed. Some of that can be attributed to his tracker's skill and determination, but Remy still blamed himself.

In his haste he charged up the stairs of the apartment complex, not noticing the figure lurking in the shadows below. He rapped on the door once, tapping his foot.

"C'mon 'Donna," he muttered, rapping smartly on the door again. That's when he heard it: swift footsteps, coming up behind him. Remy whirled instinctively…or he tried to, but his assailant's hand wound around his neck, cutting off his air supply and pinning him in place. A sharp noise penetrated the air around the two.

SNIKT

Three cold blades suddenly pressed dangerously against the flesh of Remy's throat. Pinned back against a strong body from behind, Remy's vision swam in front of him as a voice, cold and harsh, whispered into his ear.

"Alright bub, where the hell is she?"

* * *

A/N: Now please go review. I haven't had any in so long I think I'm in withdrawal.

Please…


	9. The Swamp Rat vs The Wolverine

There were two things in life that Remy couldn't stand:

1) Being called a 'kid'

2) And being attacked while his back was turned. Currently, it was the second issue that was pissing him off

"I ain't gonna ask you again bub, where is she?" the voice of his attacker demanded again as the scenery around him swam and dimmed. The lack of oxygen was starting to get to the Cajun and he didn't like it one bit. His left arm was pinned behind his back, crushed between his own body and that of his opponent's, leaving his precious cards out of reach. So he went with plan 'B'. Reaching his right arm back, blindly, he groped along his belt until…

SHUNK

His assailant let out a pain wracked groan and Remy felt the pressure around his neck instantly lessen, the cool blades leaving three light scratches against his skin as they fell away. He gasped for breath and whiled, yanking his 'bo' staff out of his attacker's groin and bringing it to bear by his side. His head clearing with each breath, Remy sent a silent prayer of thanks back to Henri. The staff had been one of Remy's best weapons growing up, and for his thirteenth birthday, Henri had commissioned a friend of his to construct a steel, retractable one for his foster brother. Fully collapsed, it was no bigger than a small lighter, but at the push of a button, and in Remy's hands, it lengthened into six feet of pure destruction.

Or in this case, six feet of pure, nut crunching power. Completely unaware of the secret weapon, which had been deployed and extended straight into his crotch, Remy's assailant hit his knees, accompanied by a dull SNAKT sound. It was a low blow, and the Cajun knew it, but so was jumping a man from behind, so now they were even. He whirled and swiftly pinned the angry Canadian to the ground, using the staff as a lever. Remy made a 'tisk-tisk' sound under his breath and replied,

"I don' know what you talkin' about." Then, anger welling in his voice, he added, "But you sure as hell better get outta here, boy, before Ah give you a serious ass who,"

CLICK

Remy whirled in surprise at the slight noise, realizing what it was a fraction of a second too late. 'Donna had finally responded to his knock, and was un-bolting the door. With she and Rogue inside.

""Donna, don'," he started to shout, but Remy's hairy adversary took advantage of the situation. Knocking aside the staff, the shorter man reared up and lunged at Remy's chest, propelling them both backwards into the not-yet-opened door. It popped like a cork in a champagne glass as the force to two wild men slammed into it, knocking 'Donna back against the wall right along with it.

"What da hell!" they heard her exclaim as the two flew past, bouncing onto the carpet. Remy was caught beneath the other man as they hit, now pinned himself. "Remy!" a female voice cried out, but whose was unclear.

Remy grimaced as the full weight of his opponent crashed down onto his chest, but while this man out weighed him considerably, the Cajun was far more agile. Using what little momentum they had left to his advantage, Remy kicked up and, rolling backwards, propelled the man head first into the opposite wall. Scrambling nimbly to his feet in a maneuver he'd used just days earlier on Touley, the thief retrieved his deck from his pocket and grabbed a hold of as many cards as his fist could contain, charging them as high as they'd go, and letting them fly in one smooth motion. A shower of violet explosions erupted, shaking the foundation of the tiny room and filling it with a thick smoke.

His plan backfired though, as Remy lost sight of his attacker behind the smoke-screen. He'd nailed him, he was sure of that, but was the wild man down for the count, or would he be back for more? Circling, his staff in a defensive position, Remy noted where Belladonna stood in the corner of the kitchen nook, trying to edge her way back to the bedroom, presumably where Rogue was.

'Dan dat's yer goal, Remy,' he said to himself. 'Keep dat nutter outta dat room.'

The smoke beginning to lift, Remy scanned frantically for any sign of his attacker. But he heard him before he saw him

"She's in here," a thick voice taunted from within the clouds. Remy whirled, but then the voice came from the other direction. "I can smell her. I know you have her." Opposite corner now, "I'm not leaving without her"

"Over mah dead body," Remy hissed to himself, but it must have been louder than he thought because,

"That can be arranged," the voice grunted from in reply nearby, just to Remy's right. He tightened the hold on his staff. "Now I'm gonna ask you one last time before I tear this place to the ground: where is Rogue?"

"Go ta hell!" the Cajun shot back. No way was he going to lose Rogue now, not after they'd made it this far. Not to this psycho.

SNIKT SNIKT The sound hovered about the room this time, reverberating from everywhere and anywhere all at once. But the man was still invisible behind the thick smoke; Remy couldn't see a damn thing…

"After you," the voice hissed maliciously.

…And when he finally did see the man, it was too late.

"Rrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" The invader's cry echoed about the room as he lunged from the billowing smoke.

* * *

Remy never had a prayer. He was good with his staff, but his opponent was sporting six, deadly blades, three protruding from the knuckles on each hand. His shock at learning he was facing another mutant was short lived, as the Cajun gasped and prepared for an impact he knew he wouldn't survive.. Fortunately for him, though, someone else _was_ anticipating the invader's maneuver. The scene played out in slow motion: Remy realizing his mistake too late, Logan hurtling through the air, claws poised to kill, and Rogue, who tackled the Cajun with all the strength in her, body a fraction of a second before he would've been skewered.

No one was more surprised by what happened next than Logan himself. Even within the dim settings, the smoke shrouded walls, there was no doubt who'd saved his target's life. His nose didn't lie; the woman on the ground was Rogue, though she no longer looked the part. She and her captor skidded out of control into the corner, one stacked on top of the other, and hit the wall with a sickening THUNK Logan, his claws impaling the sheetrock of a wall as opposed to the skinny kid's heart, was quickly back on his feet, confused but ready.

The duo across the room struggled to untangle themselves, Rogue getting to her feet first…at least, it smelled like Rogue. It sure as hell didn't look like her. Her hair hung even with her chin, easily six inches shorter than before. She was dressed from head to toe in black, and more promiscuously than ever. Black mini skirt, top, leather jacket, gloves, even fishnets that faded into lace up combat boots. She looked like more like a drug addict or hooker than the lost southern belle that she was. Logan was suddenly afraid that the girls's kidnapping had taken an even worse turn. What had she been forced to do? And more importantly, why was she protecting her kidnapper? That's when Logan realized that her companion wasn't moving. He was breathing, but the fall had defiantly knocked him out. It was just the two of them now. Just like before

"Rogue?" he asked, his voice demanding an explanation of her behavior in not so many words.

"You leave Remy out of this Logan," she replied firmly, her arms held out to her sides, keeping herself between himself and the prone figure on the floor. "This is between you and me." There was a look in her eyes, not of softness and sensitivity as he expected to find, nor of fear and anger. There was just emptiness. He shuddered inside.

"Out of what?" Logan demanded, taking a step closer. Rogue flinched, and he raised his hands, palms out in front of him, in the universal sign for 'calm down'. Bad idea, he forgot his claws were still exposed. Rogue flinched again and, with an instinctually born of necessity, she did exactly what 'Donna had instructed her to do earlier: she reached down into her boot and pulled out the dagger hidden there. Brandishing it in front of her, she ordered,

"Stay back!" Logan felt as if he'd been shot…er, felt like a normal person must feel like when shot. He'd come all this way to find her, and now she was pointing a knife at him. Why? She'd been the only one to trust him, the only person he'd ever met that didn't fear him. Why now?

SNAKT SNAKT Logan drew his claws back into their housings as a peace offering, cursing himself for not remembering to do so earlier. She jumped again at the noise, moving down the wall, further away from him.

"Look kid, I know what happened that night upset you," he said calmly, remembering clearly the events that had prompted her departure. "But it's alright now. I came here to rescue you, let's go!" But she didn't budge.

"No!" she declared fiercely, in a tone Logan had never heard from her before. It was cold and tough as nails and said 'don't mess with me' plain as day. "I know why you're really here!" Logan was utterly confused now. He'd expected it would be difficult finding her, and that if she had been kidnapped or held against her will, it would be tricky getting her out, but he never expected her to not want to come. Was she still scared about the stabbing? After all, she'd laid him out pretty well afterwards, so she couldn't be that frightened of him…

"What are you talking about?" he asked sternly, voicing his inner confusion. "All I know is that I came to that night, and the next morning you were gone." The knife in Rogue's hand quivered slightly.

"And I'm sorry about that," she cried, her voice cracking with emotion. She took a deep breath, and the blade steadied. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but it was just an accident," she screeched. "I left anyways, isn't that enough?"

"Enough for what?" he demanded. She was talking herself in circles, and Logan was failing to comprehend what she had to say.

"Enough to make you people leave me alone! Enough to satisfy that…that Professor!" she yelled. "Isn't it enough? Or do you have to kill me too?" she finished, completely distraught, the knife in her hand shaking violently now. Logan dropped his hands to his side, and took another cautious step forward. Rogue sidled further along the wall, further away from him. "Was it that big of a mistake that you have to kill me now too?" There was a hysterical edge to her words now.

"Rogue," he started, but she wouldn't have any of it. She didn't want to hear him again, didn't want to risk trusting him again. Only problem was she couldn't trust herself not to. She was fighting the overwhelming emotions inside her head and her heart. 'No!' she told herself. She wouldn't fall for it all again!

"I'm sorry, but I mean it…" she said, shaking her head vehemently, fighting down that quiver in her chest.

"Rogue," Logan tried again.

"…You come near me Logan, and I will…" she continued, her voice barely above a whisper now, but she knew he could hear her. Her eyes were wild…with fear, with terror, with betrayal. No longer cold and devoid of all feelings, what he saw in them now was worse. It wasn't the real Rouge he was talking to, and Logan knew it. He had to find her again, he had to save her because, like it or not, he needed her. And he was pretty sure she needed him too.

"MARIE!" The shout echoed again and again throughout the tiny room, only magnifying the silence that followed. She took another shuddering breath, staring at him.

"…kill you!" she croaked, finishing her threat in a hollow, empty voice, so soft that even Logan had to strain to hear it. But she was real again, he knew it. The wall she built inside herself, to prepare for this meeting, had come tumbling down. She was real again, she was Rogue.

"Look at me, Marie," he ordered sternly. Her darting gaze rested lightly on his face. "C'mon kid, it's just you and me. I'm not out to hurt you…and I would never let anything happen to you," he coaxed, sensing that she was giving in. "You know that." He moved another step closer, and she didn't budge. "Were in this mess together, like it or not, and I won't leave you behind. "Besides," he gave her a coy look, "I still owe you one for, ya'know, saving my life." The knife fell from Rogue's limp hand and she clamped her eyes shut against the onslaught of tears that threatened to overcome her. She won, as only one, lonely drop traced a line through her thick makeup. Logan sighed in relief, and strode quickly across the room quickly, making short work of the distance between them. He reached out his hand for hers…

And that's when 'Donna leapt out from behind the couch and buried a steak knife into the back of Logan's neck.

* * *

Westchester, NY

Scott caught himself almost wishing it were the school week again. Jean and Storm had been gone for almost two days now and, without class to teach, he had far too much time to think. He and the Professor had debated bringing the girls home at a few different times, but had decided against it each time. Even in the Blackbird, the flight to New Orleans was almost an hour long, and the likely hood of them being able to catch up with either Logan or Rogue after a delay like that was unlikely. So they stayed, sleeping in shifts and combing the local areas, but mostly waiting for word from Scott or the Professor. But Scott was nervous, fidgety, and sick for waiting and wondering. He hated that Jean was out there…without him to watch her back. Plus the thought of her and Logan being alone in a plane together didn't exactly make him want to jump for joy.

But if there was one thing Scott was good at, it was control. And right now he was controlling his impatience as much as humanly…mutantly possible as he paced back and forth in front of the long, library window, watching the students organizing a pick-up football game on the back lawn. Charles was seated at one of the many long tables, grading the older students physics papers just to keep busy. Both leapt slightly as a small beep…beep broke through the silence of the study. Xavier looked quickly down at the sensors lining the left arm of his chair.

"I targeted Cerebro to scan for Logan's life signs specifically, and it just picked up a match," he declared triumphantly. Cerebro needed the Professor to locate any new mutant signatures, but for simple tracking purposes, Cerebro could operate on an 'auto-pilot' of sorts, especially if Logan's data was already in the memory, as it was.

The two men made for the elevator to the lower levels as quickly as possible, descending much too slowly for their liking. Finally reaching the bottom, the doors parted and each hurried off in a different direction: Xavier to Cerebro, to pinpoint Logan's, and hopefully Rogue's, exact location. And Scott to the War Room to alert the Blackbird.

Neither made it very far.

Xavier was assaulted by a massive mental onslaught just as he placed his strange metal helmet on his head; just as he mentally 'reached out' to the interfacing technology that was Cerebro. Reeling in mental anguish, he fought briefly against the enclosing darkness…and lost, tumbling out of his chair and falling into a well of blackness with no bottom.

Scott, downloading the geographical coordinates from Cerebro's CPU, hit the transmit button. A fraction of a second later he hit the floor as a small electronic capsule, hidden beneath his chair, released a specially formulated vapor into the air, knocking him completely unconscious. Just as planned; just the way Bobby Drake programmed it too.

But then again, things aren't always what they seem, are they?

* * *

Unknown-Somewhere in Louisiana

Five delicate, blue fingers wrapped into a tight fist around a strangely modified palm computer, which bore a frantically blinking red LED light on the antenna. A chuckle resonated softly into the air.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel," gloated a feminine voice, which warbled and shifted in pitch as it went. The fold down computer screen snapped shut with a soft click "It's almost too easy."

* * *

A/N: Alright peeps, another quick update! And an actual cliffie this time. Thanks for the wonderful reviews last chapter, I wasn't expecting such a bombardment of complements. BTW, I highly suggest all of you watch X1 again just as a refresher if you get the chance, especially if you're confused about the whole 'Bobby Drake' situation. Thanks for bearing with me what with the delays and everything. Now review or my muses will stomp you and Remy will explode (yeah, I know that was random and all…) Let's try for 100, eh? Please :) 


	10. History Lesson Close to Home

Rogue watched in horror as Logan's eyes went wide as he dropped to the floor. Her mouth hung open as Belladonna became visible behind the man's limp form, a splatter line of crimson blood dotting her shirt. There was a look on the young woman's face that Rogue hadn't seen yet. Her gray eyes were cold, unmoving, unfazed. Her face was twisted into an expression that can only be labeled as utter contempt. There wasn't a trace of remorse visible anywhere. Rogue's heart started beating again as 'Donna strode over to where Remy lay limp on the floor.

"Wha…what the hell did you do?" Rogue spluttered, her eyes glued to Logan's lifeless body. 'Donna snorted under her breath as she shook Remy by the lapel's of his coat, trying to bring him around.

"Rogue, you are entirely too trusting," she said coolly. "He was just trying to get close to you."

"He wasn't," she shot back, still in shock on the floor. "You don't know him!"

"And you do?" Belladonna asked, glancing up from Remy. Gray eyes met green in a silent battle of wills, neither backing down.

"Yes!" the runaway declared finally. "Logan's not like that."

"He stalked you halfway across the country, tried to impale Remy, and then came after you. You even believed he was out to get you for a minute there, Sugh'. So tell me Rogue, what exactly is he like?" 'Donna's voice was dripping in contempt as she spoke. And she left no space in between words for a reply. Good thing too, because Rogue had no answer for her, just a feeling that Logan was really out to help her.

SMACK

"C'mon, you wort'less thief, get up!" Bella hollered at the Cajun, slapping him sharply across the face. The result was a low moan from Remy as his head stopped flopping limply about.

"Wha-what happen'?" he asked groggily, staring up a Bella who had her hand raised to smack him again. Both his hands shot up defensively.

"Whoa, whoa!" he yelped. "Ah'm up! No more knocking 'round da thief and….oh shit!" he scrambled to his feet, suddenly remembering where he was and what had been going on. He whirled crazily. "'Da wild man? Where is he - oh!" He spied Logan's lifeless body on the floor. Then he spied the knife. "Is he?"

"Oh yeah," 'Donna answered with far too much enthusiasm, "Ah made sure Ah hit the artery. He's dead."

But Rogue wasn't so sure. As the conversation continued in the background behind her, mostly consisting of 'Donna berating Remy about sending a thief to do an assassins job, she tuned out, all her senses focused on Logan. She thought back to the car accident, when they'd first been attacked in Canada. Logan's head…he'd had a cut. At the time she'd thought that maybe she'd only imagined seeing such things, but now she was almost positive it had happened.

She'd watched him heal himself, good as new.

Of course, this was more than just a little flesh wound like that. And she had no idea if Logan could resurrect himself as well as heal but, God willing, she hoped he could. So Rogue didn't move, not wanting to alert 'Donna to her possible oversight, but she strained her eyes. Did his chest just move then, or was it her exhausted eyes playing tricks on her? No, it had to have been…

"Well, den dat's one down, two more ta go," Remy said. That brought Rogue's attention back to the room's other two occupants in a hurry. She found herself on her feet, but not by her own will.

"You mean there's more?" she demanded, speaking to Remy for the first time since he gained consciousness. He nodded slowly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and the large bruise there.

"Yeah, two more, aside dis one," he said, giving Logan's limp foot a good kick. "D'others are women, from what Ah managed ta find out." He turned and shot Rogue an unpleasant look. "Dere, dat's mah explanation. Now's your turn, Rogue, startin' wit who da heck dis maniac is." Rogue looked away, unable to meet both suspicious looks that her companions were throwing her way. Thrusting her hands into her pockets, she shuffled her feet back and forth.

"Remy, I ran away from home eight months ago. Did you know that? It's been eight months since I've seen my family, eight months since I almost killed my boyfriend, eight months since this whole mess began. I left with seventy three dollars to my name. And, trust me, that doesn't go that far in the world today. I spent most of it on a train ticket that took me from Mis," she stopped short. "Well, from my home to Vancouver. After that the real fun started. I was living hand to mouth, sleeping in alleys and bus stops. I would beg for food, crawling across cities, and hitch with anyone who'd stop." She took a shaking breath, and was grateful when no one interrupted her tale. Fighting to hold in the emotions, she ventured on. "I was trying to get to Anchorage, thought I might be able to find some temp. work up there, try and rebuild my life. But…getting there wasn't, well…as easy as it sounded. I got stuck in the middle in nowhere, with little more than the clothes on my back. And that's when Logan found me." She gestured briefly to the figure on the floor for emphasis, but not long enough to draw attention to the knife that no longer seemed embedded as deeply in the man's neck. "We found each other actually. He…well, it's a long story. Short version is he gave me a lift and, well, helped me out. I'd," she faltered again, this time unsure if she'd be able to continue. But there was a pressing need burning in her brain now, a need to once and for all get this off her chest. To pour all her pain out for the world to see, so it'd no longer be her cross to bear.

"Rogue…" Remy stared, coming over towards her, concern plain on his bruised face. She stuck both hands out in front of her, warding him off.

"No! Let me finish," she ordered, and Remy fell back into place beside 'Donna. Rogue took a shaky breath. "He was the only other mutant I'd ever met before and, for once, I felt like I wasn't quite so alone anymore. Like…there was someone out there who'd understand me. But that was all short lived. We were attacked on the road by some," she shook her head sadly. "I don't know what. An animal or a monster or a mutant, but whatever it was, he had it out for us. Logan tired to hold him off, but he was too strong. He nearly killed us both."

"We were rescued by this group called the X-Men. They were mutants too and they had this, this school, this haven for children with mutant powers like ours. It was a utopia the likes of which I'd never imagined," she continued, her voice growing faint and reminiscent. "It seemed so perfect…I was happy." She looked 'Donna and Remy in the eyes and they were shocked to find tears welling there. "I was accepted…I thought."

"So why'd you leave?" 'Donna interjected, obviously impatient. "Why leave all that behind?" Rogue, standing across the room, wrapped her arms around herself, like a child trying to ward off the demons in her dreams. Remy fought down the urge to run comfort her, but part of him knew what she was going through, and painful as it was to watch, he knew she had to go it alone.

Had to finish it once and for all.

"'Cause I almost killed someone…again. And, well, they didn't want me around anymore. No one did. So I took off…again," she sighed deeply and tightened her hold around herself. "I'm…I'm better off on my own." Rogue shrugged. "You know the rest."

The room was filled with utter silence that seemed to go on forever. Rogue had nothing more add to her tale, and neither Remy nor Belladonna had any idea what to say after a story like that. The quiet seemed to say it all. Hesitantly, Remy took a step forward. When Rogue made no move to stop him, he approached faster. Slowly, he snaked his arm around her, and pulled her tight against his shoulder. It was strangely reminiscent of the way the duo had arrived at this apartment. And it felt right.

"Ah'm sorry Rogue," he whispered gently to the girl's down-turned head. "Ah had no ideah." She sniffled lightly and squirmed slightly under his arm.

"S'all right," she murmured. "No one's ever asked."

"You saved mah life back dere, chere. Ah owe ya one, ya know?" She shifted again.

"No," she countered, glancing up at him fleetingly. "We're even now."

"Ahem!"

Both sets of eyes flew across the room and looked at the pouty 'Donna who stood, hands on her hips, glaring at the pair.

"Ah hate ta break up da Kodak moment an' all, but Ah still got more questions dat need answering. Like why you t'ought dis Logan guy was trying to kill you after all da stand up tings you jus' told us 'bout him?" Remy glared at her sharply from behind his glasses.

"Ya wanna lay off fer a second, 'Donna?" he shot, sharply. Belladonna glared right back.

"No, I won't lay off Remy," she fumed. "You two jus' tore apart the on'y home Ah got left and dere's a dead guy wit claws lying on mah floor. Now dis was not part of da deal so Ah want an explanation! Why'd you tink dis nut was tryin' to kill you?"

"'Cause," Rogue replied with more moxy than she felt, "the guy at the school? The one I almost killed? That was," she said, but trailed off as she saw all the color drain from Bella's face and her jaw drop. As she raised a shaking hand, pointing at something behind embracing pair, a gruff voice said,

"-Me. The one she almost killed was me."

* * *

A/N: I know, I know. You guys can beat me with blunt objects all you want but that won't make up for the huge delay in updates, so can I just apologize and move on? Okay, I'm sorry. There, that better? Good. Now, for the actual A/N. This chapter threw me for a huge loop, mostly because what 'Donna did last chapter, wasn't supposed to happen. I know, my characters have taken over, once again. So, I had to put her on time-out for a while I worked on a new chapter 10. And then I had too much so I had to split this up into two, shorter chapters. So yes there are more of these coming and thank you for being patient. Now REVIEW and, never fear, next chapter should flow a little smoother. Long live ROMY! 


	11. Something Wicked This Way Comes

A knife whizzed through the air from behind where Remy and Rogue stood and stabbed into the floor at 'Donna's feet.

"I think you misplaced that," muttered a gruff, snide voice from behind the duo. "You should be more careful in the future." Her heart frozen, Rogue whirled, dragging Remy's arm (and the rest of Remy) along with her. The color drained from her face in a comical parody's of 'Donna's, but for a different reason: relief.

Behind her, standing where there had just been, moments earlier, a corpse, was Logan. His shirt was stained with blood, and he was rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, but he was very much alive. And that was all that mattered.

"Logan?" she cried, lunging forward and throwing her arm about the short man's neck. "Oh thank God!" Caught completely off guard, Logan hesitantly wrapped an arm around the girl, looking awkward and unsure of what to do. Truth be told, he'd never found himself in this kind of situation before. Young girls just didn't run up and hug him every day. Still, the fact that one was willing to do so made Logan smile slightly.

"Take it you would've missed me, kid?" me whispered into Rogue's ear, being careful not to touch her skin. She blushed and released her hold, dropping back onto the floor.

"So long as you're not trying to kill me, I prefer you alive, yes," she whispered back.

Observing from behind, Remy was crestfallen…well, shocked and slightly crestfallen. The shock came from seeing a dead man standing, holding his friend. The crestfallenness came from the fact that Rogue's arms were wrapped around this 'dead-man' and not Remy himself.

"He's…alive," the Cajun muttered in disbelief. Behind him, 'Donna fell to her knees on the floor, white as a sheet. The assassin was used to death and destruction, but seeing her targets revive themselves after being slain was a different story entirely.

"Jesus Christ," she hissed under her breath, shaking fervently. Unfortunately, the noise attracted Logan's attention. He gently pushed Rogue out of his way…

SNIKT …and popped one set of claws.

"Oh shit…" Remy muttered, backing away as the Canadian shifted his focus away from Rogue. Logan started towards him, growling menacingly.

"You and I got some unfinished business, punk!" he declared, pointing dangerously at Remy with his sharp tipped claws. Sighing, Rogue thrust herself between the pair and latched onto Logan's arm.

"Stop it, both of you!" she ordered. "Rounds one and two were destructive enough. Do we _really_ need a round three?" Pressed flat against the far wall, Remy thanked the 'powers that be' for send him the only thing that seemed capable of calming the destructive man. Course, if it hadn't been for Rogue in the first place…

SNAKT The claws disappeared and Remy let out a sigh of relief. Still positioned between the two feuding men, Rogue extended her hand towards the Cajun.

"That's better. Remy LeBeau, this is Logan," she said by way of introduction. "Logan, this is my _friend_, Remy." She put her hands on her hips, staring indignantly back and forth between the two men. "Well, c'mon…"

"C'mon what, hun?" Remy demanded, cocking an eyebrow and watching Logan's hands carefully.

"Shake hands," she ordered.

"What!"

"No way in hell!" Rogue stamped her foot indignantly, and grabbed both men 'round the wrists, hauling them together with surprising strength.

"Look," she explained, forcing their fists within inches of each other. "You two are both my friends. And friends of mine do not try and kill each other. So shake!" Logan curled up his lip in disgust. "Now!"

Both hands met briefly, as the men tried to crush each others fingers. Logan stared cruelly into Remy's glasses as the two broke apart.

"Good, now, what are we going to do?" Rogue demanded as Remy went to help the trembling 'Donna over to the couch…er, what was left of it. It was still smoldering slightly, but there were a few cushions intact still, and Bella collapsed onto them gratefully.

"You…" she muttered in a shaking voice, pointing one trembling hand at Logan. "I…I killed you."

"Yeah."

"You're supposed to be dead."

"Eh," Logan shrugged, rolling his eyes, "I got better. So," he turned to Rogue, " are you coming back with me willingly, or am I going to have to drag you kicking and screaming?" Rouge looked up from where she was helping 'Donna. The look on her face plainly said that she hadn't been expecting that question. Remy jumped in for her.

"Personally, Ah don' tink kickin' and screamin' de answer here, homme," he said, leaning against the remaining arm of the couch. "Case you didn' hear right from you position on da floor over dere, our little Roguey's got some people after her head, aside from you o'course." Apparently Logan hadn't heard, because that statement caught him way off guard. Surprisingly, he turned on Rogue for answers.

"What? Why are they after you?" Patting 'Donna's knee comfortingly, she shrugged. Once again, Remy fielded the question, and Logan was starting to look pissed that this two-bit, half-pint had the answers to all he needed. Plus the fact that he still didn't trust him…

"Look, all we know is dat dere were two other people dat went to da same bar as you, looking for our little fille," the Cajun explained, holding up two fingers. "Two women, one blonde an' nasty, da other redhead and light-drinker. Dat's all we got to go on. But instinct tells me," he continued, his voice serious, " dat if dese girls came as far as you did, muscles, den dey want Rogue here bad." But as they were talking, Rogue had a sudden flash of insight. If Logan wasn't out to kill her, then the other X-Men probably weren't either. Which meant…

"A redhead?" she repeated out loud, looking to Logan. "Jean maybe?" Logan shrugged.

"Maybe. She's probably after her dear fiancé's ride," he muttered. Rogue's jaw dropped.

"You swiped Scott's bike?" she asked. Logan shrugged again.

"What, you think I walked here?" Rogue slapped her palm against her forehead, sighing. Then something occurred to her. A threat she hadn't even considered yet.

"You weren't supposed to leave the school yet, were you?" she demanded suddenly. "That's why you had to swipe the bike? Cause they didn't want you to leave?" Rogue glared at Logan, and the man flinched, a gesture that Remy was becoming all too familiar with.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" he finally said. "Just let you run off? Leave it up to _Cyclops_ and those other freaks to find you?" Rogue sighed again and started pacing back and forth across the room, trying to find a way to make all the pieces fit together.

"Look, that guy who attacked us up in Canada, he attacked us together," she said, pausing in her frantic pacing.

"So…" Logan prompted.

"So, maybe this last person, this blonde woman…maybe she's after me 'cause she thinks I'm you're with me, like the last time," Rogue declared, a look of triumph on her face. "Maybe she's working for that guy who's after you."

"Look," Remy interjected, speaking up for the first time in quite a while, "if Ah'm followin' dis' all straight, and dese people are after you chere," he pointed to Rogue, "ta get to him," his gesture flicked over to Logan. "Dan didn't you jus' give 'em exactly what dey was want'in all along?" Right then, as if on some crazy cue from fate, Logan picked up a whiff of something on the air. His head whirling around, he moved closer to where his claws had cut through the wall. A soft breeze was blowing gently through the hole.

"What?" Remy asked Rogue, watch Logan as if he were nuts. "What's he doin' now?" Logan held up his hand, demanding silence. Straining his senses, Logan sniffed the air deeply. It bore a scent he couldn't quite identify, something evil and dangerous.

"What is it?" Rogue asked.

"I don't know, but I smelled it that night at the train station. It's…I don't know, but it ain't good. And it's getting closer." Rogue shuddered, despite herself. Then a soft rattle peppered the air.

The chain and lock on the door, which 'Donna had put back in place after reviving Remy, were rattling back and forth violently.

"Um…dat ain't good," Remy declared. "Dat's never good."

rattle rattle

The handles on the cabinets vibrated like a hummingbird's wings as the group whirled at the new noise. Then, across the room, a tall floor lamp crashed to the floor, it's bulb shattering.

"That's it, we're getting outta here," Logan declared, grabbing Rogue around the wrist. "There another way besides the front door?" he demanded, turning to 'Donna. The young woman seemed to have regained most of her composure.

"Yeah," she spluttered, getting to her feet, "out da fire escape in mah room. Leads t'da back parking lot." Logan made for that direction, hauling an unwilling Rogue behind him.

"Good, let's go," but nobody followed.

"Remy!" Rogue cried, as she was hauled around the corner into the room. "C'mon!" But Remy stood rooted where he was, his eyes focused on 'Donna, who moved resolutely about the room. She paused when she saw that he was still here. Grabbing him by the front of his trench coat, Bella threw Remy towards the bedroom door.

"Go!" she ordered, thrusting a finger towards the direction of her room. "Go with them, they need you." As the front doorknob quivered and rattled even louder behind her, Remy shook his head.

"Not witout you. Ah ain't leavin' you behind!"

'Donna responded by kicking over her kitchen table and seizing two long, carefully crafted blades fastened underneath. Twirling them skillfully, she turned a look of pure malice on the lone man.

"Ah might be legit now, LeBeau, but Ah'm an assassin born and raised! Ah can handle mahse'f!" She brandished one dagger over her shoulder. "Ah'll hold 'em off, now get!" Remy opened his mouth to protest, but stopped as 'Donna continued. "Look Remy, fer da firs' time in mah life, Ah'm doin' what Ah want. This is mah home now, and it's da on'y one Ah got. Ah'm not leavin' it jus' 'cause some bad ass is tryin'' ta scare me. So go, and let meh handle mah life mahse'f." His heart heavy, Remy nodded in consent. Deep down, he knew just how she felt. He made a beeline for the bedroom.

Pausing in the doorway, he turned to look at Belladonna one last time, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "Look 'Donna, Ah cain't tank you 'nough," but she cut him off, reaching over to retrieve something from a basket on her wrecked counter.

"Take 'em," she ordered, tossing Remy a set of keys. "Consider dis mah tanks fer, ya know, not tellin' mah father where Ah was all dis time." With that, she leaned over quick and planted a kiss of the Cajun's cheek. "Good luck," she whispered into his ear. "You take care o' dat girl now, ya here?"

"Gumbo, move!" came the shout from the other room, and Remy pulled out of 'Donna's grasp. He didn't speak as he left the room, but there was no need to. He and Belladonna knew each other, and some things just didn't need to be spoken to be understood. She go the message, though, as she watch Remy slip into the bedroom and out of sight.

Logan caught Remy by the arm as he hurdled into the room.

"Done with your lamenting goodbyes yet?" he demanded caustically, following the Cajun over to the window, Rogue nowhere in sight. Remy was instantly relieved when he glanced outside and saw the girl climbing down the fire escape. He didn't trust this Logan guy, and despite the girl's assurances, he still felt that something not quite right was at work here. Little did he know that Logan had the same reservations about him in return.

"Move!" the older man shouted from behind as Remy paused by the windowsill, eyes glued to Rogue as she slid down the ladder with expert grace. He growled low under his breath to reinforce the order. With a cocky grin, Remy stepped out on the platform, and then leapt off it, plunging the two stories to the ground below. Logan sighed as he scrambled down the ladder last.

Getting to the ground, Logan was disappointed to see Remy standing and in one piece, and with Rogue's arm laced through his.

"Break it up, you two," he ordered, kicking aside a dumpster to reveal where he'd stashed his bike after discovering Remy's destination. "We gotta," But Remy put him off, charging around to the front of the building, calling back,

"Hang on a sec," as he pulled something out of his pocket. A minute later a loud bike roared to life and Remy came gliding around the corner seated on it.

"Remy," Rogue hollered over the roar, "where d'ya get the bike?" She was pissed. They hiked miles through the swamp when he had this hidden all along? That conversation wasn't going to go over well.

"It's 'Donna's!" he shouted back, tossing her a tattered helmet with a stylized 'A' on the back. "It's on loan." Scotching forward, Remy gestured for Rogue to hop on behind him.

Watching the duo from behind, Logan growled angrily. Protectively, he wrapped his arm 'round the girl's shoulder and pulled her on behind him instead, shooting Remy a dirty look that clearly said 'keep your hands to yourself.' Rogue clinging tightly to his waist, he kicked his own 'on loan' vehicle to life and tore out of the lot and onto a dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust for Remy to follow. And as the dust and diesel filled the air, Logan caught the same dangerous scent hanging in the air, growing stronger and thicker around them. Whoever-or whatever- it belonged to was catching up to them. And something told Logan they wouldn't be able to run for much longer.

* * *

The battered and beaten door rattled in its frame, the little golden chain-lock vibrating fit to burst. A few seconds later the screws shot from their sockets and rocketed into the opposite wall, narrowly missing 'Donna's head. The lock itself followed inches behind.

Despite her bold words, the woman was shaking. Belladonna was used to being outgunned, outnumbered, and outclassed, but this…what she felt, saw tasted on the air, this threat was something she'd never experienced before. And heaven help her, she was frightened. Lightly, she touched the right hand blade to the back of her neck, against a small red tattoo: a stylized 'A' that was the mark of the 'ssassins. 'Just for luck,' she told herself before planting her feet staring down the door. She didn't have to wait long.

A loud SLAM reverberated throughout the entire building as something massive was rocketed against the door. The weak wood never had a chance as it folded and clattered to the floor, showering the blonde in splinters. But she stood firm, unfazed. Through the mist of wood shavings and twilight, a silhouette appeared.

The figure hovered in the doorframe, face shrouded in shadow, completely alone. But 'Donna didn't need to see him to feel the evil and desperation he was emitting. Gripped tightly in her sweaty right hand, Belladonna cocked her arm, rearing it back to throw.

"Get the hell outta mah home!" she cried, hurling the blade with all the force she could muster. Her aim was true as the knife flew through the air, targeted directly at the figure's chest. It would have been a killing cut…would have.

Suddenly the knife stopped in midair. In the darkness, the figure raised one hand and twitched a finger in the assassin's direction. Obeying, the knife turned and, before she could think to move, buried itself in 'Donna chest's, straight through her heart. One final breath escaped her lips as she fell to the floor, still as a stone.

* * *

A/N: Now, this really was designed to be part of the last chapter, but it was just too long, so they got split up. Lot's of dialogue here, but Rogue and Logan had some things to catch up on. Don't worry, there's plenty more ROMY in chapters ahead. This chapter's coming out so quickly to make up for that long delay. Consider this my little apology present. Now we're even, kay? I want to thank everyone who's reviewed so far: thanks for all your comments, critiques, and support. You've made this story the success that it is. So THANK YOU! THANKS A TON! I love you like a fat kid loves cake! I love you like I love ROMY! (yes, I'm highly enthuastic, so sue me). Alright, now please review this part of the story and give me more helpful comments that make my day. 


	12. If We Lose Our Way

Meanwhile, In The Backwaters of Louisiana…

The X-Women had hidden the jet cleverly along the edge of an uninhibited piece of swampland, using the mangroves and natural foliage as camouflage. Jean was currently aboard, bored out of her skull and looking forward to when Storm would get back and she'd have a chance to stretch her legs.

A light on the panel in front of her suddenly shone to life, signaling an incoming transmission. She typed in a translation code while flipping open a voice link to the mansion's war room.

"Scott, I'm bringing up the Cerebro output on visuals. Anything new to report?" There was a pause while Jean awaited a response, but all she got was a faint crackle of static. "Scott?"

Nothing.

_"Scott? Hello!"_

Dead air, mentally and physically.

"Huh…" Jean typed another command into the keypad, but the results were the same. "That's…odd." She switched frequencies.

"Hey Storm?" There was a pause before the comm. link crackled to life. This time someone answered.

"Yeah?"

"You need to get back here! We've got a," there was a soft thump on the landing ramp outside.

"Reading?" Storm finished, walking into the cockpit of the jet.

_"Showoff,"_ Jean chided her mentally, punching in a startup code. But she couldn't keep the slight quiver out of fingers as they flicked across the keypad. Storm noticed.

"What is it?" she asked, sliding gracefully into the pilot's chair. Jean glanced at her out of the corner of her eye as she brought up the location coordinates on the Blackbird's radar. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she contemplated how Storm always knew when something was amiss. Coming to no reasonable conclusion, she decided to answer the question.

"Nothing, I just can't get a response back at the mansion." She shrugged, putting her own fears to rest as she swung her co-pilot chair back to face the bulkhead. "Scott didn't respond." Storm chuckled as she watched her partner get situated at the controls.

"I'm sure John or Jubilee was blowing something up and he had to run. Since when did you get so jumpy?" she asked, cocking a wry eyebrow.

"Let's just get going," Jean said in exasperation, giving her friend a mental poke in the arm. Storm threw her hands up in front of her chest, fending off the invisible attack with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Okay, okay. Just stop with the poking finger of doom." There was a muffled roar that reverberated dup through the metal grating of the floor panels as the plane took to the air. "I'm sure everything's fine."

* * *

Dirt Road Outside New Orleans…

"He still behind us?" Logan shouted back to Rogue as she clung tightly to his waist. She glanced back over her shoulder, much shorter hair whipping against her face, and saw Remy following close behind. He noticed her gaze and gave her a wink. Rogue rolled her eyes and faced forward again.

"Yeah!" she hollered back.

"Damn it!" Rogue thumped her fist against her driver's back indignantly, then quickly returned her hands back to his waist as he sped up.

"What's your problem with him, Logan?" she demanded. She would've noticed him snort if it weren't for the 'subtle' roar of the bike beneath her.

"My problem is that I don't trust him," he replied, turning his head slightly to be better heard. "I mean, what sewer did you drag him out of?" She sighed.

"I didn't drag him out of the sewer," she muttered. "More like the swamp, and more like him dragging me." Logan fought down the urge to park the bike and slaughter the other guy immediately. Instead he took the opportunity to go all 'daddy' on Rogue again.

"That wasn't what I wanted to hear, kid!" She laughed behind him as Logan walked right into her trap.

"Look, Remy saved my life. If it weren't for him I'd probably still be stuck in a boiler room in the basement of The Thief's Guild…" The bike jerked beneath them as Logan's hand slipped for the first time in his available memory.

"WHAT?" he cried. He would've grabbed Rouge 'round the shoulders and given her a good shake if his hands hadn't been busy at the moment. Instead he took to chastising her verbally.

"Rogue, what the hell were you thinking? Falling in with that type of crowd! Trusting someone like…like that!" Rogue was quickly getting pissed, and tightened her hold around Logan's waist, thought it was doubtful he actually felt it.

"Logan, don't lecture me like some kind of child!" she shot back, fuming. "I can take care of myself…"

"Rogue, did living on your own teach you _anything_?" Logan demanded, interrupting the girl mid-rant. "'Cause let me tell you what I've learned from rubbing elbows with the less desirable people in life. No matter where you go, everyone knows The Thieves Guild and all the rules that apply. You never mess with a guild boy, and you never turn your back to them!" Logan hollered at the top of his lungs. "Then you and I are apart for, like, two days and suddenly you're stuck in the middle of some family soap opera involving the most devious thieves in the history of crime! Jesus Christ!" He was about to throw up his hands in exasperation when Rogue decided to go for the killing blow.

"Actually, it's a family soap opera involving the most devious thieves in the history of crime and the most dangerous assassins known to man."

"ROGUE!"

"Look, I found you too didn't I?" she demanded indignantly. Logan groaned and reveled the throttle a little harder.

"That don't say much, kid."

* * *

There was only one thing on Remy's mind: putting as much distance between whatever had been back at that apartment and their rag-tag little group. Chocking on the dust flying off Logan's back tire, he stuck close to the duo's tail. At one point, Rogue turned around to look at him, and he felt his dampened spirit lift a little. True, he had never expected anything like this to happen when he first laid eyes on the injured runaway just a short four days ago, but then again, she probably hadn't been expecting this either when she stepped off a that train. And besides, he liked a little excitement in his life. But then his thoughts drifted back to 'Donna and the family he'd left behind. What was going to happen to them?

What was going to happen to him, caught up in a mess bigger than even him?

Lost in through, Remy felt the bike slip beneath him, his balance wavering slightly. He focused and brought his attention back to the road and the task at hand. 'C'mon Remy ,' he chided himself. 'Now ain't the time to go running off the road.' But then…it happened again…

Remy's balance wavered. For a split second he thought that the impossible had occurred and he'd lost his balance. But then he realized that would never happen. He'd been riding since before he could walk; too long to make a rookie mistake like that! Shaken, he put on a burst of speed, darting just behind Logan and Rogue, when it happened a third time. Beneath him, the bike rocked from side to side and Remy fought to stay on. In front of him Rogue let out a frightened exclamation and clung to Logan's waist as their bike pitched to the left. Logan grunted, hauling it upright with difficulty.

"What's going on?" Remy shouted to the pair over the noise. Logan wound his arm around Rogue's to keep her on the bucking bike and shot a fleeting glance at the Cajun behind him.

"Don't know!" His bike pitched to the right this time, nearly skimming the rider's knees against the gravel as the wheels sputter. "Just keep going!"

But his instructions were easier said than done as the next waver sent Remy's feet dragging. Then something occurred to him. He finally put together the uneasiness he'd been feeling with what his logic had been trying to grasp.

"Turn around!" he cried, but he never got the chance to act on his own advice as it happened once more.

This time his bike slammed over completely, skidding forward along the ground, dragging Remy along with it. The rocks and gravel bit deeply into his skin as he was pulled along. His leg still pinned below the careening vehicle, Remy realized with a shock that instead of the bike slowing from the drag of his body and friction, the out of control machine was gaining speed. Panicked, and unable to see his companions, he writhed back and forth, kicking and thrusting with his arms in a desperate attempt to free his pinned leg.

"Merdre!" he cussed to himself, giving the bike a vicious kick with his free right foot. "Not lik dis!" Beside him the bike wavered off its path slightly. His calf became visible once more, his pants red and caked with blood, but his foot was still hidden beneath the surging machine. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw what appeared to be the crazed bike's target as it zoomed along the ground, wheels spinning on the air. His blood ran cold as the giant oak tree loomed closer every second.

"Crap…" He thrashed about frantically, kicking futilely against the bike's leather seat again and again. "Move! MOVE! **MOVE!**" His foot inched free slowly with every flail, but it was too slow. The tree was there! Bruised and road-rashed, Remy squinted his eyes shut, bracing for impact, gave one final kick…

…And felt his foot slide free. In a motion that was purely instinctual, Remy flipped to his back and threw his hands over his head as his former ride hit the tree with sickening force just feet behind him, and exploded outward in a wall of orange fury.

As flaming metal littered the landscape the Cajun got shakily and painfully to his feet. Whirling around, he felt his heart stop in his chest. Logan was pinned to a tree by seemingly nothing. His arms out to his side as if he were being crucified, his unsheathed claws were bending and curling in unnatural directions. His face twisted in pain, his only focus was a figure running down the middle of the road. Rogue.

She was limping, a long burn running down her left leg as she hobbled as fast as she could. But she got two steps before both her hands shot up to her neck, and she slumped to the ground. Rogue jerked once, than lay still, a syringe visible beneath the collar of her jacket. In a panic, Remy launched himself towards her.

"Rogue!" he cried. But his forward progress was suddenly halted as a smoldering fragment of muffler on the ground suddenly squirmed to life, winding its way around the Cajun's legs, pinning them firmly together. As he slammed into the ground (again), a voice penetrated Remy's strain of consciousness.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. So predictable," muttered an icy cold voice from behind. "One road leading away from the apartment, one way to run." Remy flipped himself over, still bound, and watched as a figure penetrated the growing darkness around them. His first shock was that the man was floating. His second shock was that the metal that littered the ground responded to his every gesture which, in this case, meant that a bent pipe encircled and bound his wrists behind him. "I expected this kind of behavior from the Wolverine, but not from a pup like you." The figure landed softly just feet in front of him, and offered up an unnerving smile. "It's Remy, isn't it?"

"Who da hell are you!" he screamed in response. "What da hell you want!" The old man, clothed in a burgundy cape, chuckled menacingly and leaned close to the prone Remy.

"My dear boy, I have all I want right here," he muttered and, with a flick of a hand, a metal panel floated into view, the prone Rogue fastened with a steel clasp tightly to the top. Her head lurched sickeningly to one side as the makeshift stretcher shifted in midair.

Remy felt a surge of pure rage clouding his mind. Writhing violently, he struggled in vain to try and reach the bonds on his wrists with his fingers. If he could just charge them off…

While his body was preoccupied, the Cajun's mouth was busy running away on it own.

"You fi'thy sonavabitch! You 'urt her and Ah swear Ah won't rest 'till Ah see you dead…" and so on. Gloatingly, the old man stood just beyond his reach, laughing menacingly.

"Oh, I don't think that will be happening any time soon," he muttered softly, yet dangerously. And at another deft twitch of his hand, Remy felt something come free from his belt. Shocked, he watched his own Bo staff levitating in the air before him. Automatically, it extended to its full length, then began twisting and writhing as if it were made from rubber and not steel. In the blink of an eye, it bore down upon him, winding around Remy's neck so tightly that it cut off his air supply. Blackness began spotting his vision. It felt like raw fire scorching his throat as he fought helplessly against the oblivion threatening to swallow him up.

'Rogue,' his pain wracked brain ordered him. 'Got…to…get…to…Rogue!' But he was fighting a losing battle, and as he felt the arms of death reaching out to him, the last words Remy heard were triumphantly crowed in a soft British accent.

"Goodnight, young thief…"

* * *

"What the hell…" Storm wrestled with the controls in her hand as the plane jarred and jolted beneath her. It was as if the plane was flying through a jet stream, but she knew for a fact that that wasn't possible. In fact, aside from the encroaching darkness, conditions outside the plane were quite favorable.

"Jean…?" But Jean shook here head vehemently.

"It's not me," she confessed as the plane bucked again wildly. Suddenly, she doubled over, a cacophony of voices tearing through her mind. Flitting thoughts, panicked consciousnesses, emotion after foreign emotion hit her in a psychic shockwave.

"Jean, what's wrong?"

"_Rogue!" Anger, hatred._

"Jean?"

"_What da hell you want!" Desperation, confusion._

"JEAN!"

_Pain, darkness…_

Storm's voice echoed through the cockpit as the flood of images abated just as suddenly as it had begun. Jean was left gasping for breath as her eyes refocused on the open sky ahead of her, and her partner's worried face.

"I'm…I'm okay," she sputtered as she tried to make sense of all the residual data tumbling around in her head. "I, I just…"

"What happened?" 'Ro asked, her 'Mother of the Earth and everyone on it' look on her face. Suddenly Jean surged forward and snapped the auto pilot off, yanking the controls into her grasp and accelerating the plane southward. "What are you doing."  
"South," Jean muttered. "I'm heading south. Get ready Storm, they're close. And they're in trouble."

* * *

Logan was helpless, completely incapacitated by the very metal that had saved his life so many times. He watched as Remy fell to his knees before the man Xavier had called Magneto, his own staff wound around his neck. Then he endured the shame of being confronted with the very man holding him prisoner as the man once known as Eric Lennsher walked briskly over to him, leaving Remy lying still in the middle of the road. Logan felt white hot rage pounding in his veins as the man began to speak.

"Well, it's seems Charles's X-Men have finally arrived," he said as if he were having a normal conversation, eyes fastened on the sky as the Blackbird hurdled closer, slowing for descent. "Shame I can't stop to chat." And that's when Logan realized that Magneto wasn't looking at the Blackbird, but past it, to where a sleek, white helicopter was approaching at a steady, nonchalant pace.

"You'll never make it past them," Logan barked through gritted teeth. "The girls'll rip you to pieces." The X-jet's engines were turning up dust-devils along the dirt road as it sank lower for a landing.

With a haughty look, Magneto turned to regard the descending SR-71, then back to the captive Wolverine with a smug grin.

"I highly doubt that, my boy," and with a wave of his hand, the plane stopped in mid air. Jean was barely visible through the tiny window, working the controls furiously. "And unfortunately, this little contraption," he continued, tapping one wrinkled finger against his oblong helmet, "is keeping Ms. Grey out of my head and inside that plane." But while Magneto was busy gloating at the helpless Jean, he failed to realize one minor detail: the emergency hatch on the roof had been open for quite some time now.

Above Logan the sky turned a nasty green as thunder shook the very ground in a shockwave of fury. Lightening scorched across the horizon, illuminating a white-haired goddess that harnessed the bolts. The raw fury on Storm's face was mirrored in the raging thunderclouds around her. Encroaching rapidly, the helicopter danced and dodged as it was tossed the goddess's ravaging winds, but never strayed from its course. Magneto shifted his attention from the prone Wolverine to the angry sky above. Logan was thrilled to see a hint of fear on the man's face, fleeting though it was.

"What's the matter, metal head?" the feral mutant growled through gritted teeth. "'Fraid of a little rain?" But he didn't get a reply. Instead Magneto fastened his eyes on the helicopter as it hovered shakily several hundred feet over the battle grounds. By itself, the hatch on the side slid open. The stretcher bearing the prone Rogue suddenly arced into the sky, slipped narrowly into the opening and disappeared into the hull of the vehicle.

"NO!" Logan screamed, pulling away from the tree with all the force in his body. But it was useless; he wasn't going anywhere until Magneto decided he was. Even as the elderly mutant rose into the air himself Logan remained stuck fast. "NO!"

And without so much as a word, Magneto disappeared into the belly of the helicopter as well. Inside the Blackbird, Jean shouts of outrage fell on deaf ears, and in the air above, a shower of hailstones echoed Storms frustration. She threw everything she had at the chopper, but the pilot wasn't deterred, flying straight off and into the thunderhead. As the white 'copter disappeared from sight, Storm tried one last time. Raising her hands in rage, a sworm of electrical bolts laced towards its retreating vehicle.

They never reached it.

Deflected by some magnetic shield, the three mutants watched helplessly as one of their own was ripped from their grasp.

* * *

A/N: Alright, I know, I know, it's been FOREVER! But here's the 411: Stretch has been accepted to her top three choices of colleges (Marquette, University of Michigan, DePaul). This is good. But Stretch has also realized that she has no money, so now comes the fun part, Scholarships! These applications are long and arduous and driving me insane, but unfortunately, they have to be done. So now you know the low down, and I'm sorry for the delay. But hey, have a little faith in me. I told you I wouldn't give up on this piece and I haven't. And actually, I'm going to give you a little hint as to what bombshell I've got planned for the upcoming chapters. Think, aside from Remy being added to the cast list, what is another thing that you've wanted to see in the X-Men movies that hasn't been added. Think about something that's been lacking from these characters (and no, it's not Logan sleeping with Rogue ;) Just think about what's been missing, and then hang on, 'cause this story is halfway done, and the last chapters will send you for a loop :) 


	13. A Figure In Shadows

The prone body of a young Cajun boy was securely strapped to a retractable medical platform along the _Blackbird_'s berth, to keep him both immobilized for the sake of his injuries as well as to keep him from rolling about during the flight. He was hooked to a portable oxygen mask, but Jean wasn't sure if the pipe around his neck had cut off oxygen to his brain long enough to cause permenant damage. She was just thankful that she'd been able to revive him after the beating the kid took from Magneto. But despite that small victory, it was a somber group that was flying back to Westchester as rapidly as possible.

Storm, hair wind tossed and eyes narrowed in anger, was at the helm, flying a bit more half-hazardly than usual. Jean, in the co-pilot's seat, didn't mention it as she tried frantically to raise anyone at the mansion. She wasn't having much luck. Logan was strapped into a chair across from where the prone Remy was lying, starring sullenly out the window. All he'd said since boarding the plane was that the boy was a friend of Rogue's and something about Magneto and an ass whopping. It made for a lot of awkward silences.

"Any luck?" Storm asked, penetrating the quiet of the cockpit. Jean ran a hand through her hair in frustration and groaned.

"No, nothing but dead air." There was another long pause.

"Try the," Storm started to say, when a blinking red light on the panel in front of her caught her eye. It was a hail from another frequency. With swift fingers Jean adjusted the radio on her end. There was soft cackle then…

"Jubilee, stop messing with that keyboard!" a female voice hissed tersely. "I think I've got it…"

"Listen you hopped up little intangible monkey…" a shriller voice interrupted. Jean knew those voices.

"Kitty? Jubilation?"

"Ms. Grey!" Kitty Pryde crowed, speaking into the com device far louder than necessary. "Thank God!" Relief was far too plain on her voice for Jean's comfort. Picking up on the conversation, Storm look away from the controls nervously.

"Kitty, what are you two doing…" she started to demand, but Jean cut her off.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?" There was a cacophony of voices in the background. They jabbered for a brief moment before Kitty's voice once again broke over the speaker.

"Jean you…you need to get back here. Fast," the hesitation in her voice sent up a warning flag that Jean didn't have to be telepathic to pick up on. "Something…something's happened."

"Katherine, take a deep breath," she instructed the young girl. There was an obligatory rush of air before Jean continued. "Alright now, slowly, tell me what happened."

"Jean, what's going on?" Storm demanded from the pilot's chair. Jean chose to ignore her.

"We…we hadn't seen Scott and the Professor for a while, but we just assumed that…that they we working on something in one of the labs…" she took another deep breath. "But…this guy came to the front door, just after sundown. He's…he was sick, Jean, and he was looking for you. That's all he managed to say before collapsing into Peter's arms."

"Did he say who he was?" Storm interjected loudly, shouting her question back over her shoulder. That snapped Jean's last thread of a nerve.

_"Storm, stop interrupting and keep your eyes on the sky!"_ she snapped telepathically. There was a notable pause a Kitty debated who to answer. After a moment she ventured on.

"We combed every room in the mansion, and when we couldn't find either Scott or the Professor, we started paging all the rooms downstairs over the intercom. Nothing. So I jerry-rigged the elevator, I'm so sorry but there was no other way…" the girl began apologizing profusely and another voice spoke up over hers. It was Jubilee

"We got downstairs Jean, and we found Scott unconscious on the floor of the war room. When we couldn't find the professor anywhere else, Peter broke open the doors to Cerebro and we found him unconscious in there, same as Scott." There was a brief scuffle and the sound of muted voices in the background as Jean and Storm sat in stunned silence, soaking in the devastating news. Before either of them could respond Kitty, calmer now, regained control of the com and delivered the final blow

"We can't wake them up Jean," she confessed. Jean finally spoke up, taking the initiative once again.

"Alright, just hang tight Kitty. Go back upstairs and take the others with you, alright?"

"Yes," she said emphatically

"Good," Jean conceded in a voice much calmer than she felt. The Professor, Scott, Rogue…it just didn't add up. And now this sick stranger at the mansion. She shook her head in frustration, but continued speaking in a voice soft and calm.

"Alright, is Piotr there?" she asked.

"Da?" came a deep, Russian accented voice over the speaker now. She continued instructing. "Pete, remember what I showed you in the lab the other day. How to monitor cerebral output on a graph?"

"Da," he confirmed, recalling the time that he'd spent studying medicine with Jean, just out of his own natural curiosity. Jean now sent a silent prayer of relief to whoever was keeping an eye on them upstairs that at least one of the students had some medical knowledge.

"I want you to hook the Professor up to one. You remember how?" There were a series of thick, pounding footsteps in the interim that Jean took as a sign Peter had grabbed a portable com and was on his way to the school's medical lab. "If he was connected to Cerebro when he was attacked, we could be in a lot of trouble. Now I'm going to talk you through it…"

* * *

For the second time in too few days, Rogue awoke in utter darkness, unsure of her location, a throbbing pain echoing in her skull. Closing her eyes and taking a deep, slow breath, she focused, bringing all her senses to their most heightened level, pushing her pain to the back of her mind. It was a technique Storm had been teaching her at the institute as a means of suppressing the remnants of Cody, her old boyfriend, that still lurked in the back of her mind. It was something that she hadn't thought of in quite some time. And now…it was strange that she had remembered this in a time like this.

Eyes still shut tight to the impending darkness around her, Rogue took stock with her other senses, fighting off the encroaching feeling of de je vu she was getting. Her ears picked up the sounds of rushing water nearby…but still surprisingly distant. Closer, softer, there was a dull, prickly sound that she couldn't quite identify. There was a gentle influx of air blowing coolly against the bare skin on her neck and cheeks.

Her nose told Rouge that there was water nearby as well, giving her surroundings a musty, dank odor. Beneath her the stiff, rock floor bit sharply into her stockinged legs and chilled her to the bone. Feeling calmer and better informed about her situation, Rogue opened her eyes to the emptiness around her.

Two circled openings were cut into the rock wall of her room, but neither of them revealed a door. In fact, with both openings sealed with sets of metallic bars, there didn't appear to be a way out _or_ in. 'Magneto,' the little voice in the back of her head muttered as Rogue shakily tested out her legs. 'The mutant the Professor told you about at the school.'

"But he's not supposed to be after me," the girl muttered softly to herself as her outsized heels clicked across the stone floor. One of them was broken. Must have snapped off in the struggle Rogue concluded, one hand tracing down her leg and the calloused burn it bore. It stung, but so did every other part of her body. Then suddenly, a soft sound penetrated the eerie silence of the cell.

"Hey tiger." The voice was soft, warbly in a way. Like a bird given a voice. Still, despite it's tone and pitch, Rogue leapt into the air, whiling instinctively. But the room was still as empty as before. "Easy there…" the voice soothed again. Rogue's feet scrabbled lightly against the floor as she spun to the left, sure that's where the voice was coming from. But the only thing that greeted her stare was the cold, blank wall. "You're…awake."

"Who's there?" Rogue demanded, tired of being jerked around, of being one step behind, being watched, stolen, and shit on…figuratively. "Where the hell are you?" There was a long pause, and Rogue wondered if, perhaps, she'd been hallucinating. But then,

"Down…here, honey," the voice instructed. Rogue's gaze traveled down the length of the blank wall, and she noted a narrow, grated opening, about a foot across, at the bottom along the floor. Probably cut there for drainage purposes; there was seepage dripping from every crack and crevice visible. Gingerly, the Rogue dropped to her knees, wincing as she landed on the fresh bruises. Awkwardly, she stooped over and peered into the room beyond. What she saw was a cell, identical to her own, and seemingly empty.

"Hello?" she called cautiously. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" The voice didn't respond, but there was a noise along the wall inside: a shuffling and a slight groan. Craning her neck to the left, Rogue peered along the inside wall of the other room. In the dim settings, she could just make out the slight outline of a human figure, crumpled into the corner. She saw the faint rise of a chest in breathing, and the figure made a raspy sound and groaned again. The next breath didn't come for a long time.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" she demanded. The figure shifted slightly and Rogue saw a pair of glassy eyes peering at her through the darkness.

"I'm…alright, tiger," the woman, for that's what she clearly was, responded softly. Her answer didn't seem all that convincing, but Rogue had too many questions to press her any further on the matter.

"Why are you here?" she asked in a hushed, hurried whisper, afraid that the sound of their conversation might alert a guard she couldn't see. "And where is here?"

"Slow down…kiddo…" her companion instructed in her slow, halting way. "Let's start…with your name." Rogue hesitated. There were a hundred different ways that this could be a ploy or trap of some kind. But there was just something…a feeling, an instinct inside her that told the girl that this was okay. That it was right somehow. And Rogue was quickly learning to trust her instincts.

"Everyone calls me Rogue," she replied, leaning close to the grate so that her voice carried. "How 'bout you?" There was another long pause, but Rouge was becoming accustomed to them. She has a feeling that the woman in the room beyond was not as okay as she said. But after a moment her response came in the same soft tone as before.

"My…my name was…is Carol."

* * *

A/N: I cannot tell you long I have wanted to write that! Suppresses fan-girl squeal That's for all you girls that wanted to make sure Rogue wasn't the wimp she is in the movies. This chapter is dedicated to you. And, of course you all know how much I love the X-Kids- Peter, Kitty, Jubes, Jamie, the whole crew, so I had to make sure I threw 'em in there. So go on, read, review, tell your friends, and enjoy! But mostly review ;) 


	14. Waking Up A Stranger In A Strange Land

_Black. He was surrounded by it, filled with it. Trapped by it. He lashed out, fighting and clawing and tearing at it, but the darkness just blanketed him, pinning his limbs, forcing its way into his mouth, his eyes, his soul until…_

The light was so bright that it felt as if it were piercing the tissue of Remy's eyes as he squinted them open cautiously. His brain was cloudy, memory of what had happened-patchy. He was aware of the fact that his entire body was throbbing with a dull ache, that his head felt as if it had been run over by a Mac truck, and that he was hooked up to more machines than he cared to be. The smell of astringent was thick in the air as Remy took a deep breath, trying to focus and get his bearings. Opening his eyes more carefully this time, he gazed up at the blank tiled ceiling with revealed nothing about his settings. Judging from the softness beneath him, he figured that he must be in a bed of some type

He wrenched the tube out of his wrist with one, swift jerk. Bad idea. The needle attached to the IV tube came out crooked and painfully.

"Jesus!" Remy cussed as the sharp pain caught him off guard. He shoved himself upright with his good arm and another sharp pain ripped through his neck as he did so. Rubbing his hands along his neck, he traced a line of bandages with his fingers, their placement jarring his memory. Him on his knees, a man bearing down on him. His own Bo staff curling around his neck, cutting off his air. Fighting. Pain.

Rogue.

The sudden rush of memories took Remy by surprise and he pushed the information to the back of him mind as he tried to make sense of his surrounding; tried to determine if he'd been taken by the same side that had captured Rogue. The thought of the girl made his heart ache, and he looked around the room he was in frantically, wondering if maybe she'd ended up in the same position. But it wasn't Rogue's body in the bed next to Remy's, but that of another man, wearing red glasses that hugged his face closely. And there was another man in a bed next to him.

"'Dis ain't good," he whispered to himself, looking around frantically, noting the presence of all the medical equipment in the room. He didn't know what was going on, but it wreaked of mutant experimentation. It wreaked of something Remy didn't want to be involved in. Quickly he scrambled off the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible and wondering what had become of his coat and his cards. His movement was a mistake though, as if jerked a sensor off his head.

Immediately a machine behind him began to emit an obnoxious alarm. Panicked that it would alert whoever was in charge here, Remy leapt backward, groping at the buttons on the flashing front panel of the monitor, hoping that he'd hit an off button somewhere, but to no avail. Finding no other option, the Cajun pressed a fingertip against what looked like the main screen of the device and focused. The equipment began to glow bright purple and he flattened himself against the wall as the machine front blew apart, the alarm dying slowly, making an obscene noise at first, and then fading to silence. But it was too little, too late. Just as Remy was breathing a sigh of relief he heard rapid footsteps approaching from the opposite side of the formidable, metal door at the opposite end of the room.

Thinking quickly, the thief ran the short distance to the door as silently as possible. But instead of attempting to open it (for the door didn't have a handle or knob of any kind) he flattened himself against the wall next to hit, hoping whoever was approaching did what he needed. A split-second later there was a slight breeze as the doors parted with a WOOSH and a woman walked inside. She had a white lab coat on over what appeared to be everyday garb, and her high heels clicked against the floor noisily as she strode quickly across the room, staring intently at the empty bed. And just like Remy had hoped, she failed to notice him as she entered, allowing him to slide quickly out the door as she stood in the middle of the room. By the time she'd comprehended what had happened and whirled around, the doors had already closed behind her and Remy.

Finding himself in a metallic and foreboding hall, full of more metal, knobless doors, Remy sprinted to the first one he saw, hoping it functioned as the rest and parted based on motion. It did and he breathed a sigh of relief as he surged into the dark, empty room and heard the doors close behind him. It wouldn't take long for the woman to either a) raise an alarm, b) come after him, or both. He hoped that maybe he been swift enough to at least make her look for a while. Of course, if she'd come out in time to see the door close behind him than he was screwed but…what else could he do. He stumbled around in the dark blindly, not wanting to risk turning on a light but wondering where he had ended up and hoping, by chance, to possibly find either a place to hide or some answers. In the back of him mind he wondered briefly what had become of that wild man that Rogue new, Larry or something. The hairy one who tried to skewer him. He hadn't been one of the men in the lab, but Remy got the feeling that any one of those doors in the hall could have housed a lab just like it behind them.

"Question is," he muttered softly to himself, "is de loss of de wild man a good or a bad ting?" He didn't have a reply to his own sardonic mutterings, but someone had apparently heard his question.

Bright floodlights burst on above him, blinding the Cajun as he stumbled about in a daze. A soft, robotic voice penetrated the air around him.

"Good afternoon. Please enter your security pin number on the keypad to begin your simulation," the voice said in a pleasant tone.

"Quoi?" Remy wondered aloud, rubbing his fist into his eye sockets, desperately trying to clear his vision. As the room around him came back into focus he whistled in surprise. It was the size of a standard school auditorium. Vaulted ceiling, slightly ovular in shape, with a boxy, windowed structure sticking out of one wall. The entire room gleaned, completely metallic, and seemed to have dozens of sliding panels dotting the walls and ceiling. Looking back over his shoulder, Remy spied a keypad by the sliding door. Intrigued, he randomly poked a series of number.

"Incorrect security pin," the voice said in a more curt tone of voice this time. "Please try again." Now most people in this position would probably have stopped screwing around, but Remy being Remy decided to keep punching in numbers. When he finished this time it wasn't the voice that responded again, but a siren. Immediately the lights dimmed and a spastically flashing red light bulb lit the room.

"Incorrect code. Danger Room lockdown commenced. Security breech!" the once pleasant voice screamed over an obnoxious alarm. Remy blanched.

"Oh Merdre!" he cussed. That was bound to attract the attention of hir doctor friend there. He began punching buttons spastically, trying to do anything to make that alarm shut off. "C'mon, c'mon. Shut de hell," he hollered, banging his entire fist down on the keypad. Instantly the alarm cut off.

"-Up?" For a brief moment relief flooded through his entire body. But just for a moment.

'Cause that's when the lasers appeared.

* * *

"I was working in… Miami at a NASA recruiting center when I first heard…of her," Carol said in her slow, haunting speech. Rogue leaned back absently against the cold, rock wall of her cell as she listened the story the quiet woman was telling. She'd just spent the better part of the last twenty minutes telling Carol about what had happened to her: her mutation, her trek through New Orleans, the battle with Magneto. Remy. Now Carol was doing the same.

"'Course…that was just my day job. At night…I was acting under the guise of Ms. Marvel. You know…the whole masked defender… bit."

"It was mid-April…when a string of strange murders was…was traced back to an assassin known…only as the Raven," the woman continued, telling Rogue about her how she'd wound up in the cell next to hers. Apparently it was something of a history lesson. "When the police…the police were unable to find any leads in the case, it was requested that I…step in. As it turned out, all the…men who'd been killed were…were members of an underground smuggling ring operating…out of the Miami shipping yards. Their boss, a man…called Papa Brown, was…was one of the…the only surviving members of the ring…left."

Turns out that P. Brown had made quite a…few enemies over his years of business, and someone was…not too happy with him. More and more of his men started to…to get picked off by this mysterious shooter, but each…description of the guy with the gun was different every time. Sometimes male, sometimes female. The police…were at a loss. But I wasn't. During a…a major firearms job that Papa was handling…someone took a shot at him. I'd…I'd been watching him…for weeks by then and…I intercepted the bullet. Then I followed the shooter…to a vacant warehouse 'bout…a mile from the docks. The man, this one was short…stocky, with glasses…and balding, went inside through a broken…window. I didn't follow…just watched from the outside as…the man…proved my theory. Right before my…my eyes the guy turned into a…woman. She had blue…blue skin and yellow eyes. Redhead. The multiple assassinations…had been carried out by…by one woman; a shape-shifter." That caught Rogue's attention. A blue mutant, eh?

"So what's that got to do with anything going on here?" she wondered aloud. Carol continued on, her way of saying 'hang on, I'm getting there.'

"I used my powers to…to stop the Raven woman and…and she was arrested. I wasn't surprised to…to learn that she…escaped during her…first night in…in prison. But she never…came back to Miami…and that was all…all I cared about then. That was ten…ten years ago, so by now I'd figured that…my chances of another Raven encounter were…pretty slim."

But then about three…weeks ago I…I got an anonymous tip regarding a major drug handoff…happening the following evening. Looking back…it was a stupid ploy, but I've…I've become naïve as I…get older. I went and," Carol paused, breathing heavily, but seemed determined to finish her tale. "Instead of finding a…a drug heist in progress, I was jumped by…the Raven, now calling herself…Mystique: the assassin from years earlier. Age had only…sharpened her instincts. She…she knew that she couldn't be take me…down on her own. So she got creative."

"Mystique…Raven…she attacked me with a virus that she'd had modified to effect cells matching…matching only my genetic signature. Released it in a gas bomb. It was brutally…effective. It incapacitated me…almost immediately…and it's been ripping me apart from the inside since then."

"Oh Carol…" Rogue was at a loss for words. "I'm, I'm so sorry…"

"Shhh," the woman hushed her. "Stay quiet. We…we don't want 'em to hear you. When I asked Raven why she'd…she'd come back, why now after so long…she didn't give me a strait answer. All she said was that…the boss didn't want to risk me becoming a…a nuisance."

"What in all hell is that supposed to mean?" Rogue wondered aloud. The same perplexed tone was audible in Carol's voice as she answered.

"No clue. Best as I can…figure is that her boss, this Magneto guy, is planning something big…and didn't want to run the risk that my connection to Raven might…might ruin his plans. Still leaves us…without a clue."

There was a long pause as Rogue contemplated just what that information might mean and Carol caught her breath. Before Rogue could draw any useful conclusion, Carol interrupted her thoughts.

"Look kid…there's something that…that I need you to do for me." That caught Rogue off guard, but she was more than amenable to help a sick companion.

"Yeah sure, anything…" There was a deafeningly long pause during which none of them spoke. However there was an odd shuffling sound coming from Carol's cell. A moment later, a set of skinny fingers wrapped around the narrow bars that separated the to cells, and the two women.

"Look kid," she began slowly, drawing a deep breath. Rogue leaned down closer to the bars to hear better. "I'm…not going to…make it out of here," she began when Rogue interrupted.

"No, don't talk like that!" she exclaimed softly.

"Shhhhh!" Carol consoled. "Look tiger…I'm not afraid of death. It's just another…another risk we heroes have to face. But…but death like this…I don't want to die like this Rogue. Fading from…the inside out, a prisoner. I don't want it to be so…long and arduous. So I'm going…going to ask you for a favor…'

"What?" the runaway demanded, a knot growing in the pit of her stomach.

Then the waif-like hand stretched slowly through the bars, broaching from one cell into the other. It rested lightly on Rogue's covered leg.

"I want you to end it for me Rogue," Carol said slowly. Rogue felt all the air rush from her body, the color drain from her face, the feeling from all her extremities. 'No,' he mind screamed, 'she can't have meant that. I can't…I won't…!' But her companion's words once again filled the air with their pious plea.

"Please Rogue, I want you to kill me."

* * *

A/N: Hit the little purple button or Zoe said she's gonna come back and kill me in my sleep. Please, have mercy on this poor author.

Please…

PS- If you like this story, go check out my newest creation called The Long Road Home. It focuses on the younger generation of X-Men, including Remy and Rogue. Go, you just might like it!


	15. Lost Hero

Ever wondered what a deer must feel where hunting season comes around? Well, Remy could probably describe this feeling pretty well. After all, he was suddenly staring down on the barrel of 16 lasers, pointing straight at his skull.

"Merdre," Remy hissed low under his breath, feeling the adrenaline flooding his veins.

He needed his wits about him on this one, he knew. Almost automatically he formulated several, quick plans…

…okay so it was one plan…

…Alright, he had no idea, but he did know one thing: he'd rather face whoever it was out there than be trapped, unarmed, in here.

"Hello!" he howled, banging on the door with both his fists. "Anyone? Open Up!" When that didn't work, he moved left and began spastically punching the keypad. Bad idea because the movement caught the virtual 'eye' of one of the motion sensors. The only warning Remy had was a low hum before three beams of bright red lanced toward the back of his skull. But as his instincts were functioning better than his brain at the moment, the ragin' Cajun hit the deck just in time. The lasers refracted harmlessly off the wall.

"Okay den," Remy muttered to himself. "Moving's a bad ideah. Now what?"

He had nothing. No cards, no staff, no projectiles of any kind. And no patience for the situation, so he did what any frustrated, angry, and injured guy would do: he bolted right at the nearest gun.

Leaping futilely, he tried propelling himself up the wall to grab the barrel of the steaming weapon, but he missed by several feet because…well, white men really can't jump. Unfortunate, not only did Remy miss, but his antics carried him away from the safety of the wall and into the middle of the huge room. That's when things got interesting.

It was as if Remy was an ant and the room was just one giant magnifying glass. He sprinted towards the wall in one direction, a trial of searing hot light nipping along his heels. Breathing heavily, he hit the wall, palms out to cushion the impact. The laser cut out briefly. Remy had but a moment to catch his breath before the next laser picked up the heaving of his chest and arched towards his. The Cajun hit the floor, rolled to his feet, and started sprinting in the other direction. Out of the range of one laser, into the range of another, like a psychotic game of 'whack-a-mole'. Cussing up a storm that would have made even his brother cringe, Remy skidded into the opposing corner, his boots sliding lightly on the highly polished floor.

Instantly a gun protruding from the wall above shifted to aim point blank at his head. In a move that would have made Shamu green with envy, Remy used the glossy floor to his advantage, diving to his stomach and out of reach not a moment too soon.

Maybe it was luck, or the powers that be were just done harassing him, or maybe it was the force of the impact that did it. Either way, Remy suddenly had an idea as he was skidding across some hellish interpretation of a high school gymnasium. Scrabbling to his feet, he continued dodging and weaving. His timing would have to be perfect, but it wasn't as if he had a whole lot of other options (though being trapped in here for all eternity while he ran around like a hamster didn't really sound all _that_ bad). Then, ripping the ace bandage off his neck, he tied it into a crude loop at one end and wheeled back the way he came; back to the low positioned laser in the far right corner. Remy was going to get one shot before the thing took off his head off and caused one hell of a mess.

He dashed out of the range of one laser, into the range of another, just yards away from his target.

"C'mon Rem," he muttered to himself as the gun in the corner repositioned, taking aim at him once again. He tore straight at it, hearing the loud hum as the weapon prepared to fire.

He leapt….

…and brought his arm forward, praying for the little bit of luck he didn't usually need. True to aim to loop of the bandage sailed over the barrel of the gun, and that was all he needed. Almost instantly the weapon began to glow violently purple. A nano-second before it could fire off a shot the laser exploded into a shower of electrical pieces and shrapnel, with Remy dancing in the middle of the chaos.

Still without his cards, but no longer unarmed, the odds against Remy's survival suddenly took a turn in his favor as the psychotic game of 'whack-a-mole' became a game of target practice. Using the twisted metal and plastic shards as ammunition he started taking out canons swiftly and efficiently. By the time that things stopped trying to blow holes in him, Remy was thoroughly exhausted, his battered throat aching without the support the bandage had offered. He coughed a little despite himself, and leaned back against the burn streaked wall, panting heavily.

Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off everything was starting to come back to Remy. Like the fact that he had no idea where he was. But the fact that whoever brought him here had this kind of facility at their disposal didn't do much to improve his first impression.

"Great," he said cynically. "One problem down, on'y a million more ta go." He was just about to attempt getting to his feet again when another one of those problems managed to solve itself: the giant, steel doors at the far end of the room parted open…

…And in strolled the redhead in the lab coat. The one who's heart monitor Remy was pretty sure he'd blown to smithereens about a half an hour earlier. She looked harried. Pretty, but in a frazzled, 'I don't have time for this now' sort of way, and there was a look in her eyes that clearly said she wasn't someone to mess with. The entire place, where ever it was, seemed to emit that vibe. She put both hands on her hips while she glared at him for a moment before finally saying,

"How about next time you try _not_ running from your doctor, okay?"

* * *

Rogue, unfortunately, wasn't fairing much better than the Cajun. She propelled herself away from Carol's outstretched hand as fast as she could as her hands and feet could move her.

"No!" she barked in response to Carol's unorthodox request. "No, I can't." She pressed herself back against the far wall of her cell, injured leg throbbing painfully, glaring at Carol's limp, outstretched hand the way most people looked at a disgusting insect. Blood pounding in her ears, Rogue tried to keep the thoughts of the last time she'd used her powers from surfacing in her head, but she couldn't stop the images from re-appearing: Logan's claws in her chest, a pain so unbearable she almost couldn't comprehend it, and then the terrible, mind-warping feeling as Logan's thoughts, memories, emotions flowed into, and took over her very being. It'd been as if her mind had been sucked into a black hole from which it couldn't escape; she could see through her eyes and hear through her ears, but someone else was calling all the shots. She'd take pain over that sensation any day.

And deep inside herself Rogue harbored a secret that she'd never revealed to anyone. It was a fear that next time she absorbed someone, she might never get herself back again. It was a risk she really wasn't willing to take; she honestly didn't know if she were strong enough to.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Carol hissed in response, drawing Rogue's attention back to the matter at hand. "Someone's…gonna hear…you. Just listen, honey. I've…had a good life. Truth…be told I…I never expected to…live this long." There was a hint of long forgotten humor in here tone that seemed entirely out of place to Rogue. "Look Rogue…I can hear …hear them moving…in the other room. They'll be…be coming for you…soon. I know…things that might…might help you." Despite her slow speech, there was no sadness in Carol's voice as she spoke. "Consider…consider this my…last act as…a public servant." Rogue gaped at the bars that separated them. In awe? In fear?

Maybe a little of both.

But become a killer? Rogue couldn't, she wouldn't. How was that any better than what Magneto wanted? She rocked back against the far wall, pulling her knees in tightly to her chest and wrapping her arms about them.

"Rogue?"

The runaway sighed deeply before responding with a strangled, "I can't do it. I'm so sorry for you, Carol, but please, you can't ask me to do this. Don't make me the killer I'm already afraid of becoming!" There was a long silence during which Rogue heard a series of grunts and groans from the cell beyond. When Carol spoke next, her voice was much more audible.

"I'm sorry…tiger. For every…everything that has…happened to you." Rogue looked up from her knees at the clarity and volume of the woman's voice and peered through the darkness to the grate that separated the two. She felt her heart rise in her throat.

Carol was looking over at her through the bars. She'd dragged herself over on her hands and knees just to show Rogue what the girl needed to see. Carol's skin was pallid, stretched taught over her bones as if there were scarcely enough to cover her anymore. Long tendrils of dirty blonde hair dangled in her face, but there were giant bald patched streaked across her scalp. Her bright eyes heavily contrasted her ghastly appearance. Rogue felt tears spring up in the corners of her eyes as she crawled over to Car…her friend's side.

"Oh…" she exclaimed dumbly, completely at a loss for words. "I'm…Carol, I'm so sorry…"

"Shhhhhhh," the woman consoled gently, lying her face down on the rocky ground. She didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore. "Don't…be sorry. If anything Ro…I should be. I don't want…to have to…ask you…you to do this," she sputtered out, taking a rattling, deep breath. "…but I…know you're strong. Strong…enough to help me. Please Rogue…I need your…help."

Rogue doubted the validity of the former superhero's words. At the moment the last thing she felt like was strong. But there was so much sadness, so much pain on Carol's face that even she couldn't see another way out for the poor woman. She tried to speak, failed, and nodded instead. With shaking fingers, Rogue peeled the tattered glove off her left hand and laid it beside the grate.

"Do what…ever it takes, Rogue…to stop…stop Magneto." There was a dramatic pause before Carol spoke her last words. "Be the hero…I couldn't be." Then she latched onto Rogue's outstretched hand.

It was like jumping from a plane with no parachute. The room began to swirl around Rogue until she felt nothing; her entire body was numb to the sounds and sensations around her. There was a pounding reverberating in her ears, but whether or not it was the beating of her own heart she never knew. Her mind was thrown into a blender, whirling the 'I' and the 'Me' and the 'You' all together until they were inseparable from one another.

Then suddenly the free-fall stopped and Rogue 'hit' the ground. No more rushing and pounding in the ears. All was silent and still, and only the limp weight of Carol's hand in her own reminded Rogue that she still existed.

Her chest heaving, Rogue collapsed backwards, flat on her back against the cold rock floor. She shut her eyes tight against the darkness surrounding her, focusing on the darkness within. It wasn't like the times she'd used her powers before. Cody's voice, his thoughts, his memories had plagued her for months after their first kiss. In the far corners of her mind she could still feel Logan looking out through her eyes. But there was nothing in her head of Carol. No voice, no memories.

No trace of the woman whose body now lay in the cell next to hers.

Rogue would've given anything to have the counsel of Logan at this moment. What was happening to her? Why couldn't she feel Carol anywhere? Maybe because she'd…killed her, Carol's memories didn't flow into her. Maybe they passed on to the afterlife or something? That thought chilled her to the bone. She didn't want to be here, alone in a world that she knew nothing about. A pawn in some game for species domination. She was counting on using what Carol knew to help her out of this situation, to get her life back on track.

To stop Magneto.

Suddenly she found herself yearning to have Remy by her side once again. He'd know how to get out of this mess. But she didn't even know if he'd survived the attack in Louisiana. He could be lying dead there on the side of the road, strangled…

"No," Rogue said softly to herself, the sound of her own voice comforting in her ears, warding off the ominous silence around her. "No, can't think like that. He's fine, and he's gonna be waiting for you when you get out of here." That encouraged her tremendously. She was right, her main focus had to be on escaping right now. Worry about her powers and Carol's psyche later.

And that's when she heard the footsteps, padding softly towards her cell.

No time to think, just do. Rogue acted on instinct, formulating a plan that even Remy would've been hard pressed to top. She moved.

Rogue was in the exact same location, exact same position as the one she'd awoken in, save for one, tiny difference.

She lay motionless aside for the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest in breathing. Her eyes shut tightly, she was a living statue, her body betraying nothing of the chaos tumbling about in her mind and the adrenaline pulsating through her veins. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer, the sound reverberating past her ears so loudly she could hardly hear herself think. But that was okay, her mind was just repeating 'don't think, go, don't think, go' over and over again. How the idea came to her, Rouge had no idea. Instinct, maybe. Logan seemed to put a lot of faith in his instincts. Maybe she was just learning to do the same, or maybe her unconscious had just put things together faster than she had. Either way, she was doing it. She didn't have any choice as she heard a dull, metallic clank. There was no going back now.

Her ears traced pictures into her head. A series of squeaks and tinkles as the rusty hinges of her cell door, well hidden in the wall, were forced open. Then soft footsteps as a figure came near her at an even pace, taking their time. Cautious? Maybe. But they got there eventually. Rogue didn't dare open her eyes as she was prodded in the shoulder roughly, then flipped over onto her back.

'Don't think, go!' he mind shouted at her.

Rogue surged upward, shooting her hand out in front of her, praying that it connected with bare flesh. Her prayer was answered as Rogue heard a cry of outrage…then pain as her victim fell to the floor before her. She clamped her hand down tightly, feeling her nails digging into bare skin until her captor stopped moving, then she let go.

Rogue had laid in the exact same location, exact same position as the one she'd awoken in, save for one, tiny difference: her left glove was lying next to the grate on the floor, beside Carol's limp hand.

And now Mystique was lying unconscious in the floor at her feet.

* * *

A/N: Oh no! What's going on with Rogue? Where's Carol? Why can't I get an A in bio? Well, you'll have to keep reading to find out (except about the bio, just ignore that)! Yes, I know there wasn't a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but don't worry, I think next chapter will rectify that problem. And, as promised, there will be another appearance of the X-Kids, including Jamie Madrox :) Now, go and review, just like last time. It completely made my day.

PS-Softball tryouts are over now and I made varsity again (yay!), so expect some of the usual updating delays, I'm not doing it for suspense, trust me.


	16. Sometimes The Answers

Jean was pacing nervously back and forth up and down the sparkling hall when she was accosted by a little boy in a blue sweater. It was Jamie Madrox, and in the chaos that had erupted in the last several hours, she and Ororo had taken to using the boy's copies as messengers. See, Jamie's power was that he could latterly duplicate himself through the energy provided by physical contact. So right now about a dozen identical little boys were running about the mansion, handling various tasks. Apparently this one was intended for her.

"Dr. Grey?" he asked softly, approaching slowly. She paused mid-pace and put on her best encouraging smile.

"What is it Jamie?" The boy's eyes lost focus for a moment as he tried to remember what he was sent to say.

"Uh…" he muttered, then, "Oh! I'm supposed to tell you that Piotr said Scott's heart rate climbed slightly about five minutes ago, but that…uh, there was no other change and it's settled back into normal…rhythm, no…ryth-something patterns or waves or something like that." He shrugged and smiled tentatively. "Okay?" Jean sighed and fought down the urge to go sit in the corner and cry. Instead she plastered on another hollow and falsely confident smile.

"Thanks honey," she told the boy in an even voice. "Why don't you go back and keep Piotr company for a while longer. Tell him I want to know the minute anything else changes." The little clone took off with another winning grin as he trotted away down the hall.

When the main med-bay doors closed behind him with a soft 'Whoosh' Jean slid down the wall, weakly, and slumped down on the floor, her legs pulled up tightly against her chest. She couldn't do this now! She shouldn't…she couldn't. She had to be strong…in control. For the kids, for Scott and the Professor and Storm…but oh, God it was so hard. How…how could be strong when she had failed everyone that had depended on her. If only she'd put thing together faster, then Xavier and Scott wouldn't by lying in hospital beds. If she'd just gotten there a little faster, than Rogue might be sitting with the other kids upstairs right now. If only, if only if ONLY! She banged her fists down hard against the floor beneath her, furious at the tears that leaked out from her eyes.

"Jean?" someone asked, surprising Jean out of her stupor. "Are you okay?" The doctor dug the heels of her hands into the corners of her eyes as she shot up from the floor. "Hey, it's alright." She felt herself being embraced strongly and pulled her hands away only to find her face buried in a shock of white hair.

"'Ro, I'm fine," she said weakly. "Leggo." But Ororo wasn't buying any of it. She gave her best friend another tight squeeze before holding her out at arms length to get a good look at her.

"Look Jeanie," she said, sounding a lot like a mother. "Everyone understands that this is hard for you. No one expects you to be superwoman." Jean squirmed out of her friend's grasp and fluffed her hair, trying to relieve how awkward she was feeling. She was a teacher, used to dealing with the out of control emotions of the teenagers around her, but when it came to her own feelings that was a whole different ballgame. She didn't like feeling vulnerable, exposed. So she did the only thing she could think of: she changed the subject.

"So, uh…where's Logan?" 'Ro sighed and slumped back against the wall. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the energy that she usually projected seemed gone, drained away by the events of the past several days.

"Upstairs, brooding," she shrugged. "I left him in charge of the rest of the kids. I think all he's managed to do is scare the shit out of the girl's through." Jean groaned.

"At least he's not breaking things anymore," she muttered, trying to find a silver lining in all this mess. That was getting tougher and tougher to do though as their lives started to spiral out of control faster than the X-Men could learn to cope.

"How about our other little patient?" Ororo asked, a hint of her old humor present in her voice. "Did you find him?"

"Yeah," Jean said. "Kid got himself stuck in the danger room in security lockdown." Storm winced.

"He's okay, though?"

"Yeah…left us quite a mess to clean up. Even injured, the kid has some skills. Some kind of projectile energy power, it looked like. I still can't figure out what he was doing with Rogue." She shrugged.

"He didn't say?" 'Ro asked. Jean shook her head. "And you didn't…you know," Ororo shrugged, "peek?" Jean let a soft sigh slip from between her lips. It was just part of the plight of being a telepath, she figured. Privacy was always her foremost prerogative when it came to using her power, but in cases such as this, when lives could be at stake, she tended to bend that rule a little. Fact of the matter was that Jean had tried looking into the young man's mind as she doctored up the neck wound he'd reopened during his fight, but she'd been unable to. Mutant or not, some folks just happened to have a natural mental shield, and this kid was one of them.

"Tried to, but I couldn't get in," Jean admitted. "Did Logan say anything more about him?" Ororo smiled slightly.

"A few things that I won't repeat, that the kid's name is Remy…I think," she shrugged, "and that he doesn't like him. What did you do with him, as he obviously wasn't too happy to be here in the first place."

"I gave him a sedative," Jean explained, wringing her hands together. "A strong sedative. Hopefully it'll deter him from attempting another escape until we're equipped to handle it." She glanced nervously back towards the med lab behind her as she finished speaking. Ororo noticed.

"Have you…" the weather goddess started to ask. "You know…yet?" Jean shook her head and wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

"No, but I was just about to," the red head muttered softly. 'Ro regarded her friend with the utmost sympathy.

"You don't have to, you know," she said in a quiet voice, but Jean shook her head emphatically.

"No, I do. And I'm going to," she said with more determination than she felt. She turned on heel and walked back towards the med lab with resolution.

"Well good luck," 'Ro called after her. "I'm going to go see what Kitty's up to, but come get me if you need anything." Jean nodded once before the doors slid shut behind her.

* * *

She'd postponed the inevitable long enough. Jean walked through the med lab, past where Scott and the Professor were lying still in their beds, passed the little room where she'd stashed Remy after his last escape attempt, across the room to the far wall. There was a single door there that led to a small, private medical room. It was where she'd placed the strangest piece in this puzzle: the ill Senator Kelly. She nodded at Piotr, where he sat, telling a story to Jamie and two of his clones, one eye constantly on the monitors of his teachers.

"Why don't you guys go take a break. I'll be nearby if anything happens." With a nod Piotr grabbed Jamie around the wrist and hauled the rather reluctant boy out of the room.

Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer in her chest as Jean opened the door and crossed the floor of the small room, the 'click, click' of her heels against the floor pounding loudly in her ears. There was a mass of wires and monitors obscuring the frail man beneath them, making him look on the outside like the monster Jean believed him to be inside. Her pace steady, Jean walked to the head of the bed. With his eyes closed, and a shock of white hair covering his head the man could have almost passed for someone's kind grandfather. But Jean had learned first hand just how little looks meant in the world today. This man was a monster….a monster and he always would be.

Piotr and Jubilee had said that, beyond asking for her, the Senator had been almost delirious when he arrived, babbling on about men who controlled metal and blue reptile women. The younger students found this almost comical as Piotr and Jubes had hauled the man to the med lab. But those two, the older students, had truly understood the deeper meaning behind those words, and the dire message it could bear for all of them.

Gently, as she regarded him lying there, Jean touched the prone man's temple. Even the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers made her squirm. Silently, she wished once more that the Professor was awake and ready to do this. He _should_ be the one to do this. In all honesty, the thought of what she might find in that twisted mind terrified Jean. But she had to do it. Rogue's, and all of their futures, might depend on what that man knew.

Taking a deep breath to settle her shaky nerves, Jean place first one hand, then the other, beside the man's temples. She closed her own eyes and focused, imagining her mind as a drill, boring into the very being of the man before her. There was a period of darkness, of blackness so deep it seemed to go on forever, then…

….there was an explosion of sound, of color, of touch and sensations that were foreign to her. It was madness, a chaotic vortex and Jean was caught in the middle of it. _'No,'_ she ordered herself. _'Focus. What happened to Kelly? What happened to Kelly?'_ And then she saw, felt, knew. There was pain, blinding pain, screaming. She/he was tied to a chair. Magnus was there. The Jean/Kelly merge was frightened of him. Then he was above them, in a metal ring. And then the pain was there again, sinking all the way down to his/her bones. Magnus was there again, but this time the Jean/Kelly merge wasn't frightened. Submerged, he/she was plummeting out of the sky, completely surrounded by water until…

…there was nothing left. Jean was panting but still she couldn't draw enough air to fill her lungs. Her head was pounding, her forehead thick with sweat. But she had done it, she had ventured in and returned unscathed. Reaching out with a shaking hand, Jean placed it against the wall and steadied herself as she backed away from the bed. She had seen so much…how was she supposed to make sense of it all? She closed her eyes and tried to sift through each image bit by bit.

Kelly wasn't human anymore, this she knew. In the water, he had been able to breathe. His genes had been tampered with by Magneto.

"But how?" she asked herself aloud. She went through the series of pictures again. "The machine," she answered herself. The whirling metal ring that had produced the bright light. Kelly had had no idea what it was, but Jean was a scientist by nature. Her money was on some kind of radiation, randomly altering the genes. "So then why's he standing in the middle?" She focused, remembering what she had seen. Magneto had stood inside the swinging ring, his hands gripping some kind of sensors. "Of course, because he power's the machine."

Jean leaned back against the doorframe, her legs as weak and shaky as if she'd just run a marathon. "Great, so then why take Rogue?" That question was the real kicker. "Why track her halfway across the country?" She didn't fit into the puzzle at all. What could she possibly do? What did Rogue do?

"She drains the life force and powers of those she touches," Jean answered herself. "So what?" And then it hit her! Kelly hadn't been afraid of Magneto after he used the machine because Magneto had been weak, near death, barely able to stand. So he was going to let Rogue steal his powers, and kill her instead of himself. "Crap! What's he going to use the machine for anyways?" But Jean was out of answers, and she was starting to feel like the room was closing in on her. She reached behind her and turned the doorknob. Looking back over her shoulder at the figure in bed, illuminated softly by the light of the monitors overhead, she felt no sympathy. He'd served his purposed, and Jean could honestly admit that she no longer cared whether the man lived or died. But that was a feeling she'd take to the grave.


	17. Only Produce More Questions

"Kitty?" Ororo called, slipping into the war room through the great, sliding doors. The young girl sitting before the massive central computer console didn't even glance over her shoulder at the sound. This wasn't the frightened and flighty girl whom had sounded so panicked over the intercom in the blackbird just a few short hours ago. This was a Kitty who was in her element and in control. This was a Kitty sitting in front of a computer.

"Ms. Munroe, I'm glad you're here," the girl said. "Look what I just found." She pointed to the counter ringing the main computer bank. On it sat a black box, about 5' by 5' across, with a pale red/black square glinting in the light on one side. There was a string of different colored wires streaming from one edge of the cube.

"Um, what is it?" Storm asked, picking it up and turning it over in her hands. Kitty chuckled softly and continued typing.

"It's a remote transmitter," she explained. "Someone wired it into the hard drive of the main computer here and it relayed data from our computer back to the one controlling the transmitter. It's a pretty ingenious device." She tore her eyes off the screen for a split second to flash a grin at her teacher. "It was engaged the minute Scott sent those coordinates to you in the jet. See that little square on the side? It's a data port. The minute the transmitter was engaged it sent a signal to the mechanism stuck underneath this very chair," she said, tapping the armrest of her computer chair, "that released the gas that knocked out Scott." Ororo put down the transmitter and turned here focus towards what Kitty was working on.

"And speaking of Scott, are those his files?" 'Ro demanded, glancing over the girl's narrow shoulder at the main screen. Files and programs with Scott's heading were flashing across the screen so quickly that Ororo had no idea how the girl could identify them. Kit shrugged.

"I want to know if he had any other files open when this little transmitter kicked in. If whoever was on the other end got anything besides the coordinates he was sending, we could be in even deeper than we already are." Storm was still a little flabbergasted.

"Wait," she said, shaking her head slightly. "How'd you get into his files in the first place?" The girl shrugged nonchalantly once more.

"It's not that hard," she muttered, her voice slightly condescending. "His password's either Jean or the name of his car." Storm made a mental note to change her AOL password to something other than 'password', but she had a feeling that Kitty already knew this anyways.

"His car has a name?"

"Yeah, the corvette's name is Black Betty." This time Kitty yanked her eyes away from the screen long enough to shot 'Ro a surprised look. "You didn't know?"

"No, and I'm starting to wish I still didn't. So what did you need me for, Kitten?" Kitty tuned back to the screens and put the file scan on pause, pointing to another monitor set into the console above the Blackbird's remote radar tracker.

"Whoever planted this little baby," she explained, grabbing the transmitter and connecting it to some cables hanging from an open panel beneath the console, "knew what they were doing, but didn't think we would." She returned her attention back to the other screen, which displayed only a C:on screen. Kitty's fingers began flying over the keyboard as she typed in what looked like just random letters and symbols to the baffled teacher. "The firewall they put up as a security measure is about as weak as they can get." Apparently this was supposed to mean something, but what Storm had no idea.

"So, in English, what does that mean for us?" Ororo asked, hoping this was going somewhere significant, and not just Kitty getting excited over a new technological toy she could play with. The girl huffed under her breath in frustration, then began talking the way one would to an infant.

"It means that, once I hack through the firewall, I can use the transmitter's remote sensor against whoever planted this one. If they don't have a strong central coding, hell, I can probably download all the files on whatever computer they diverted our coordinates too."

"Kitty, don't swear."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "It's just that this is huge." She stopped typing and hit RETURN. All the lines of computer gibberish suddenly disappeared, replaced for a split second by a flashing cursor before…

"Yes!" Kit cried in triumph as a long list of data a file titles began rushing past on the right side of the screen. "We are in like Flynn!"

"How…how the hell did you do that?" Ororo asked, leaning close to the screen, despite being able to see it perfectly. Kitty chuckled softly and began typing once again.

"Oh, that was nothing compared to the stuff I had to hack through to get into that NSA databa…oh," she stopped in mid-sentence as Ororo glared down at her with her best 'angry mother' look. "Oh, right, I…see, what I meant was that, um…" she stumbled, her face going red.

"Kitty?"

"Yes Ms. Munroe?"

"Download all those files and no one will hear a word of that from me, okay?"

"Deal!" she agreed ecstatically, and almost instantly a bar appeared on the screen measuring the rate of file transfer. This seemed to make Kitty nervous.

"Crap," she hissed to herself as another little dash appeared in the mostly empty box that read 5 downloaded.

"What?" 'Ro demanded. "What is it?" Kitty began typing furiously.

"Too slow, it's going to slow. They could cut us out before I get it all," she seemed panicked, and turned her attention to another, empty screen. "I've got to open up more files, try to speed this up." A row of numbered files rapidly filled the screen as Kitty worked furiously.

"Cut us out?" Storm asked, confused. "What do you mean, cut us out?" The files transferred box began to blink a little more rapidly then, but not much. Kitty pulled up another screen full of numbered files.

"This remote transfer device isn't discrete. If whoever is on the other end of this thing turns on the computer, they're gonna see that I'm stealing their files, and they could kill the transfer. I didn't expect there to be so much data, I was hoping this would go faster." Her voice was rushed and edgy as her fingers moved in a blur of speed. "Or even worse, they could load a virus into the transfer program and that could kill everything on this end. All our files, the hard drives, erased, the whole nine yards." Suddenly, the status box began filling faster than 'Ro could follow. Kitty slumped back in her chair with a relieved sigh as the box flashed 'download complete' brightly. Kit shut down the program then reached underneath the console to and yanked the remote transfer device free and ran her hand through it, literally. A shower of sparks erupted from it as Kitty's phasing short circuited the device the way it did with all electrical supplies. She then deftly tossed it into the garbage can in the corner. The two women sat together in silence for a moment, before Kitty's face broke out into a big grin.

"Damn, that was so Alias!" she muttered happily.

* * *

The last thing Remy remembered was getting chewed out by the really hot woman who claimed to be his doctor. He'd just been about to make a lurid joke about rubber gloves and physicals when something stuck him in the back of the neck. Hard. Everything after that was black.

"Christ Almighty!" he exclaimed, softly, opening his eyes. A pair of blue eyes looked back at him in fascination.

"Cool, he's got eyes like a devil!" Suddenly six more sets of eyes, belonging to six identical brown headed boys, entered his field of vision.

"Weird!"

"Poke him. See if they move!" Instantly Remy felt dozens of little fingers digging into his ribs. He squirmed.

"Hey! Knock it off!" Remy ordered. The air was filled with the laughter of little boys, but the poking stopped. Looking around, Remy found himself in a bed, just like before, except this time he was bound to it by cables around his legs, wrists, and chest. "Son of a bi," he stopped short, looking at the crowd of little kids milling about. He returned his focus to the situation at hand. Damn doctor had even tied his hands to the metal guardrails so that his palms were facing up. And he couldn't charge what he couldn't grip. Crap and a half!

He looked around, noting that this time he was in a room, smaller than the previous, and lacking the other two patients that had been there before. Instead the room was full of identical 10 year olds, talking to one another and regarding him curiously.

"You're sure Ms. Grey doesn't know we're in here?" Remy heard one boy on his left ask another.

"Positive," assured the other boy. "She thinks that you're with Piotr right now." The boy who'd asked the question to begin with still looked nervous and rubbed his hands together. Remy noticed that he had a band-aid around one finger.

Glancing around, Remy noted that there was a narrow counter covered in medical supplies along one wall, a large industrial cabinet next to that. One of the boys had the double cabinet doors open and was eagerly digging around inside.

"Check it out!" he cried suddenly, yanking something out of the cabinet. He presented it to his siblings with a flourish. In horror, Remy recognized that the boy was holding his trench coat..

"Hey, dat's mine!" he shouted, but no one heard him over the excited noises the boys were making.

"Ugh!" one kid exclaimed in disgust, leaning close to the coat and smelling it. "It smells like road kill!" That didn't stop him throwing it about his shoulder eagerly. His siblings all crowded around him, regarding the newly discovered treasure and sniffing it like excited puppies.

"No, it smells like that stuff that John and Sam sneak in," said one boy in an argumentative tone. "You know, the stuff from the bottle with the pirate on it." The others were instantly captivated.

"Which pirate is it?" another asked.

"Capt. Hook?" one questioned.

"Capt. Jack Sparrow?" another wondered aloud.

"Capt. Kangaroo?" demanded the child currently wearing Remy's coat. Remy groaned deep in the back of his throat and ground his teeth together in frustration. He had no patience for children, or time to deal with this crap.

It's Capt. Morgan, ya little buggers!" he hissed. The kids all turned to glare at him with equally blank looks. "Now git dat coat off! It ain't some play toy!" The silent eye contact continued for a few minutes until…

"Arr, Matey!" exclaimed the little kid with the band-aid around his finger in a pirate-ish voice, brandishing his arm out in front of him like a sword. One of his 'brothers' quickly joined in the game, thrusting his own arm at the first as they went bounding about the room. The normally raucous squealing and shouting then resumed, but not before the coat-thieving kid muttered,

"I still think it smells like road kill," in a sullen voice, pulling the coat tighter around him in a defiant gesture.

Remy ground his teeth, trying to remain calm. "Look, any o' you kids know what's going on? Where's Rogue?" he demanded in frustration. That got the boys' attention. They all turned to face him, blue eyes bright with curiosity. Then they began talking at once, turning their voices into one, big jumble.

"Rogue?"

"We know her!"

"Rogue was nice," replied one on the far right.

"She called us 'dorable," explained the one next to him. Then the two nodded at each other emphatically, like a pair of living bobble-head dolls.

"Yeah, then Jubilee kicked us out of the room!" called out their brother, who was standing in the opposite corner of the room.

"She said they had girl stuff to talk about," explained the kid who was standing right at Remy's bedside.

"I bet I know what they were doing in there," said another with a dangerously naughty look on his face, one eyebrow cocked wryly.

"What?" all the others chorused in unison. Remy was starting to think that they had this whole conversation rehearsed, and that the naughty looking boy was the same that had brought up liquor earlier.

"They were gonna have a pillow fight!" Yeah, it was definitely the same one.

"In there underwear?" asked the boy with the band-aided finger.

"Yeah," replied naughty sibling. "Like the girls do in the magazines that Bobby keeps under his bed!" Alright, this was not a conversation that he was expecting to get out of a group of ten year old boys. So far it seemed like the only people they knew were perverts or drunkards.

"Wonderful," he muttered to himself. Meanwhile, the conversation continued on around him.

"The ones with the bunnies in 'em?" one kid was asking.

"Yup!" was the chorus from the rest.

"Everyone was sad when she left," one of the boys nearest him confided softly to Remy, still on the subject of Rogue. "You know, when she ran away. The teacher's are all sad that she's gone." Remy's heart felt heavy in his chest. He dropped his head.

"So she ain't here?" Remy wondered in disappointment. The little boy next to him fidgeted nervously. He scuffed his sneaker against the shiny, white tile floor.

"Yeah," then the boy brightened suddenly. "But Ms. Grey says they'll find her. She's good at that." Remy was struck with a sudden idea.

"So…" the Cajun said slowly. "When dis, what's her name, Ms. Grey finds mah Rougey, how dey plan on getting' to her?" The boy responded exactly as Remy had hoped.

"They'll take the Blackbird to go get her." When Remy's only response was blank look the little kid went on. "You know, a jet. The hangar's at the end of the hall." To illustrate his point the little kid pointed at the door.

"Ahhhh." Already Remy was formulating a plan. "Look kid…uh, what's yer name?" he asked in a low whisper.

"Jamie."

"Jamie," Remy repeated. "Why don' you gimme a…" he started to say when their conversation was interrupted.

"Hey," one of the kids said suddenly in a tone that made Remy want to run and hide. This kid was digging around in the closet that had produced the Cajun's coat earlier. "Look what I found!" He pulled a square, palm sized package down from a shelf and showed it to his brothers. "Let's play craps!" He was holding a rather battered deck of playing cards. Remy bolted up against his restraints that he knocked the wind out of himself when the strap around his chest slammed into his diaphragm. He coughed and sputtered while the little boys all swarmed around the one holding the deck, including the one who'd told him about Rogue.

"Stupid, you can't play craps with cards. That's poker!"

"Or blackjack!"

"Or 52 card pickup!" Then the boy holding the card deck tore the cards out of the scrappy packaging and tossed them into the air. Remy was in physical pain as they drifted through the air to the ground below and onto the crowd of identical little boys.

"Got any sevens?"

"Go fish!"

This was taking too long. Remy was antsy. He was sick of not being in control of the situation, and he was sick to death of all these children! He squirmed and wiggled his wrists, but the cords binding them didn't budge.

"Argh!" he muttered. "Look, Ah'll tell you what, mon petite freres," Remy said, trying to sound sweet and big brotherly. Considering the fact that he was practically suicidal at this point, it didn't work so well, be he got the boys' attention anyways. "You untie yer Uncle Remy here and Ah'll show you a trick to do wit dem cards dere dat's sure ta amaze dose friends o' yours." This kids glanced at one another, skeptically, but moved closer to Remy's bed anyways. Their leader, the boy with the bandaged finger, stood at the foot of the bed with his hands on his skinny hips, shooting Remy a caustic look.

"I don't know," he admitted aloud. "Ms. Grey said we weren't supposed to let you up…"

"Yeah," one of the other boys countered, "but she also said we couldn't talk to him either, and you're doin' that." The others muttered softly to one another and nodded. Remy urged them on.

"Yeah, c'mon kids. Ah'm injured, remember," he said, turning his head to the side as best he could to show off his bandaged neck. "How dangerous could Ah be?" That did it. One of the little boys standing by his bedside started to unhook the clasps that held the nylon restrains in place.

"I wanna see the card trick," he said. "Think of how jealous Bobby and John'll be!"

"Hey, wait!" cried the little bandaged boy, but his friends were already well ahead of him, In mere moments, Remy was standing beside the bed, straightening out his clothes and reaching for his pack of cards.

"Now watch closely," he told the youngsters, pulling out the deck and holding up and three of clubs. As it began to glow brightly purple the boys leaned close in fascination.

"Ohhhhh."

"Lookit that."

"How do we do that?"

"Shhhhh," Remy instructed his awestruck audience. "Now watch de card carefully." Effortlessly, he lobbed the card over the heads of the raptured boys and it landed right where Remy had aimed it: right atop a bottle of talcum power sitting randomly amongst the vials and boxes and jars of medical supplies. As all the boys whirled to follow it's progress, the card detonated. Instantly the air was full of billowing powder, masking everything and everyone in the vicinity.

"Cool," one boy cried through the powder filled air. Around him his brothers hacked and coughed, all of them amazed by the trick.

"How do we do…Ack…do we do that?" But as the smoke settled, the boys found themselves alone in the medical lab. Remy was nowhere to be seen.

"Uh-oh, Ms. Grey's not gonna like this," sighed the boy with the band-aid on his finger, his head buried in his hands.

"Forget that!" cried one of his brothers, looking about frantically. "Someone took my coat!"

* * *

A/N: Sorry, but I'm a big believer in giving the X-Kids bigger roles in the films, so Kitty and Jamie made their star appearance. Hope you enjoy. Next chapter, Rogue gives Magneto a run for his money. Now go review! 


	18. Identity Crisis

The mind of Mystique didn't like Rogue's body, not one bit. Instantly she reared up inside Rogue's head, bitching and revolting, vying for control in a sudden bombardment of memories and emotions. In short flashes, Rogue not only witnessed, but, in a way, experienced, the past of the mutant shape-shifter whose real name was Raven Darkholme. Rogue fought back, biting and clawing through the onslaught of the Raven psyche.

_"My body, not yours. Mine, me. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue. Not Raven, Rogue…"_ the girl screamed inside her skull. The two forces collided, neither refusing to budge. Nails scrabbling against the stone floor, Rogue pushed back harder as the tips of her fingers darkened to a ruddy blue. _"No! Not your body!"_ But the riptide of memories almost carried Rogue away. Visions of old missions for Erik, objects seen though a hundred different eyes, even a sketchy picture of a bloody childhood. The images were filled with pain, a constant aching anger that never seemed to fade. The emotions seemed to shoot through Rogue's body, chilling her down to the core of her being.

But Rogue was no stranger to pain herself. She wasn't frightened by it. In fact, she was learning to embrace it. It made her sharp, focused, brought her goal into perspective. And though she was a young, lean, whip of a girl, her will was stronger than her muscles. Her determination fueled by the horrors that Carol had been subjected to, Rogue slammed Mystique into the back corner of her mind, forcing the persona into submission with a primal yell that echoed about the cell as well as in her own mind.

Instantly, the blue receded from her hands and arms, and she was essentially Rogue again, save for the quiet protests in her head, uttered sullenly by the rebellious metamorph. For a few, short seconds, Rogue remained stationary where she sat, poised on all fours, panting hard. She was utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, and what she really wanted more than anything was to wake up in her warm bed and have this all turn out to have been a bad dream.

"Fat chance," she said to herself, softly. Shaking lightly, she got to her feet. The cell door was wide open, freedom within her grasp. She made to walk right out until she came to the prone body of the real Mystique. It was only then that the thought crossed her mind, the inkling that making a break for it looking like herself would almost assuredly be a death sentence if she crossed Magneto's path…but that walking out looking like his partner would be an amazing advantage. In desperation, she examined her own small hands. Just a minute earlier, they had been blue and scaly. Clearly, just like Logan, she had taken Mystique's morphing power, now all she had to do was figure out how to turn it on. Her scream earlier was likely to have attracted attention; she was running out of time. Glaring at her own pale skin, she demanded that it turn blue.

Nothing happened.

Inside her own skull, Raven laughed at her, but Rogue paid no heed. Staring at the body laying on the floor, she fixed that image in her brain, then closed her eyes. Like a personal cartoon, she imagined her own body changing. Her skin, darkening, her legs lengthening, her hair turning a ruddy red. Again, there was nothing …but then suddenly she was thrown horribly off balance as her legs shot up, making her another foot taller. Pitching to the ground once again, she stared in awe at her body. Rapidly, the changes took effect. The blue rippled over her skin like a wave, starting at her feet and rolling up across her scantily clad torso. She felt the subtle shift of her facial features, and felt her eyes re-focus. Then, as suddenly as they'd begun, the changes stopped. As she rose to her feet, her balance wavered as she struggled to cope with her added height. Reaching out for the wall to steady herself, she began stripping off her remaining clothing. Mystique went naked and, despite her own reservations, Rogue would have to as well. Releasing her hold on the rocks, she took a few, shaky steps, and found that her perception was compensating for the height increase. Making for the door, feeling proud of herself, Rogue gave the real Mystique a good, hard kick before locking her in the cell, and grabbing the keys. She didn't make a run for it thought. Not quite yet. Instead she walked to the cell next to her own, inserted the key in the hidden lock, and hauled the big door open.

It was foolish, Rogue knew that. But it was…just something that she needed to do. Some way to put her spirit at ease, and maybe help Carol's on into the world beyond. The woman's body was shockingly light as Rogue lifted her off the floor with ease, gaunt bones digging into her hands. Gently, she placed the woman's body in the middle of the floor, directly in the narrow strip of sunlight that penetrated the shadows of the room. The light exaggerated the Carol's gaunt features even more, making her look more like a skeleton than a woman. With shaking fingers, she closed Carol's empty blue eyes, and folded the woman's hands across her stomach.

"I'm gonna try not to let you down, Carol," she said softly, fighting back tears as she stared at her companion's limp body. "I wish I could take you outta here with me. Wish you were up here with me, too." She gently tapped her temple with one delicate, blue finger. "Don't know why you're not, but whatever happens, I won't forget you," she assured the empty shell of a body. "And neither will all the people you saved." Turning on her heels, she strode swiftly out of the room, quietly locking the balky door behind her.

As she walked, she discovered that this body was better built for sneaking than her own. Never before had she ever felt so limber, so…graceful. Mystique's body was perfectly poised and balanced, making it not only beautiful, but giving it…her, deadly precision in battle. And, while Rogue was only borrowing Mystique's form, not her thoughts, this body didn't need Raven's brain to look good, it knew how to do that on it's own.

With more composure than she was feeling, Rogue/Raven strode into the main chamber, her head held high. The room was huge, bigger than she'd expected. Not wanting to break character, she didn't dare stand there, gaping at a room that the real Mystique had seen a hundred times, but from what she could see, it looked as if the entire facility had been carved into a hollowed out mountain. As she reached the center of the immense cavern, she counted at least 4 hallways leading out of the room…and she had no idea where any of them led. For the briefest of seconds she considered accessing Mystique's memories to try and find out, but in doing so she risked losing control and making a scene…and completely blowing her cover. So instead she used her own, iron-clad teenager logic and quietly muttered as she walked,

"Eenie, meanie, miney, moe…"

With fresh resolution, she strode towards the passage directly ahead of her. She was just starting to feel slightly relieved when…

"Mystique, there you are." The voice, though soft, was formidable. Like it didn't need volume to convey how powerful it was. She recognized that voice. With silent grace, she spun around to face her former attacker. With all the pride that Rogue could muster, she stared back into the eyes of Magneto.

She debated whether or not to say anything in response, and figured that Mystique was a woman of few words. Her only inclination that she had even heard him was a slight inclination of her head.

"I take it our visitors are comfortable?" Again, she nodded haughtily, adding a small, sardonic half-smile to the ruse. "Good. Then would you please assist Toad in loading the chopper? The sooner he finishes," he muttered with some contempt, as if Toad were completely incompetent (which, in reality, he was), "the sooner things can get underway." He gave an impatient wave in the direction of the tunnel on the right, and Rogue's heart skipped a beat. A chopper? That was her ticket out of her. Of course, she had no idea how to fly a chopper…or how to fly anything for that matter, but given her present circumstances, Rogue figured it was really a moot point. It wasn't as if she has a whole lot of other options anyways. In what she was beginning to think of as true Mystique fashion, she gave another slow nod, and coupled it with a subtle shift of her weight towards the passage Magneto had indicated. Then, with a flourish of his bizarre cloak, the man turned away without another word. Rogue took it as her signal to leave.

As she walked away, confident at having fooled the Master of Magnetism himself, she felt a slight chill run down her spine, and noticed that Magneto's reverberating steps had stopped suddenly. She could feel his eyes following her as she walked away, but didn't dare stop. Instead she focused only on the passage ahead. Just 10 more yards and she would be home free…7…5…3.

Then, all of a sudden the little warning light in her head went off. Instinctively (though who's instincts they were, Rogue didn't know) she whirled, just in time glimpse the length of chains zooming through the air before they wrapped around her mid-drift, pinning her arms to her sides. Thrown off balance by the surprise assault, Rogue toppled over onto the floor.

"A commendable effort, Rogue," Magneto chortled, walking into her line of sight. "But a wasted one at that. Mystique has been my partner for years, and she knows this place like the back of her hands. Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you were walking in the wrong direction? That she'd been replaced?" A coy smile played over his lips as he glared at her.

"Kiss my ass," Rogue muttered harshly, struggling against the restraints. Already caught, she happily surrendered her hold on Raven's body, shrinking back into the form she knew best. Unfortunately, the chains tightened along with her transformation.

"Go and fetch Mystique from the holding cell, then load the girl in the chopper," Magneto ordered to someone that Rogue could not see. "It's time."

* * *

"Find anything?" Ororo stuck her head back into the war room, where Kitty was still hard at work, stooped over the keyboard, sorting through the massive amounts of information she'd stolen. Her fingers flew across the keys as she skimmed file after file, sorting them into numerous sub-files.

"Nothing yet," she sighed. "Most of this stuff is benign crap that I can't make heads and tails of. Spreadsheet of random numbers that could represent anything from dollars to frequent flyer miles. Fuel consumption tables, but they don't specify fuel for what!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "And file after file of meaningless blueprints! I don't have a clue what the heck they're for. They look life UFO's." To illustrate her point, she started opening said files, one after another. She was right, there seemed to be an endless number of them. "So unless Magneto is planning on starting a TV show called mutants in space," she babbled on, pushing the rolling chair back from the massive desk and uncrossing her legs, "we're shit outta lu- Oooof!" Kitty never finished her sentence as she pitched to the side and tumbled over, discovering that prolonged periods of sitting (for example, the 4 hours she'd been at that desk) often put limbs to sleep. Kitty landed flat on her rear, hard. Moaning, she rubbed both her legs furiously, trying to work the blood back into them and stop that deranged tingling. Ororo rushed across the room to her side.

"Kitty are you," she started to ask, but the girl interrupted her.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "I'm fine, just a bump on the butt and a bruise to my…" but she trailed off, her eyes leaving her throbbing legs and fixing on the computer screen. Her gaze fixed on the screen, she tilted her head to the right, looking at it sideways.

"To your what-hey!" Ororo exclaimed as Kitty grabbed the hand she'd offered to help the girl up, and instead used it to force her teacher down to her level. "Kitty, what in the name of-."

"What does that look like to you?" she demanded, taking 'Ro's head between her hands and forcing her to look at the computer screen from her angle. Perplexed, Ororo's eyes traced over the blue print image frozen there. Then it clicked. Suddenly the image didn't look like a spaceship anymore. In fact, it looked kind of like a torch. An all too familiar torch.

"Oh Goddess," 'Ro said breathlessly, frozen in place. Then, like a flash of lightening, she was on her feet and out the door, yelling, "Jean! We found them! Jean!" at the top of her lungs.

"Hey," protested a flabbergasted Kitty to an empty room. "A little help here?"

* * *

A/N-Deux: I'm sorry, by the way… 


	19. Which Way To Go

"The UN summit is tonight," Ororo explained, "on Liberty Island. Erik's blueprints outline the production of a replacement torch for the Statue of Liberty on Ellis Island."

"The only difference between the original torch and the one Magneto's building," Kitty jumped in, waving a stack of printed pages under Jean's nose, "is that this one hollow inside, but still structurally sound. There's four more square feet of space, both across and high, in Magneto's version, and there's a depression in the floor, giving it more depth."

Both Kitty and Ororo looked at Jean pointedly, watching as realization dawned in her eyes. Her hands flew up to her mouth.

"The machine I saw!" Her hands flew to her mouth in disbelief. "He's going to put it in the torch and use the Rogue to power it. He's going to mutate the leaders of every major nation in the free world!"

"This is bad," Kitty interjected. Both Ororo and Jean turned to glare at her. She squirmed uncomfortably." "Right, I'm going, I'm going." She shoved the papers into Jean's hands. "If anyone need's me I'll be using the CIA's computer to mess with Scott's credit…I mean I'll be keeping an eye on Jamie." She ran from the war room rather quickly. Ororo made a mental not to remove her name from the school's network before they ended up with a lawsuit on their hands. Later though, she could only deal with one crisis at a time. When they were alone, she began pacing back and forth, and ran her hands through her hair.

Jean just watched. She was one of the few who ever got to see Ororo this way: outwardly nervous, unsure, troubled. With Scott out of commission, leadership of the team fell to Storm. The leadership she could handle…once she got over making the call that might decided the fates of the leaders of the free world and one of her students.

"Look Jean," she said softly after a moment of contemplation, never ceasing her pacing. "Maybe…maybe we shouldn't intervene." This was the last thing Jean was expecting to hear.

"WHAT?" the doctor exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "How can you say that 'Ro? He's going to mutate the heads of the most powerful countries in the world, including, need I mention, our own? And you just want to let this happen?" The thought came a such a shock that Jean could barely process it.

"Look, I know Erik's methods aren't the most humane, but maybe he has a point here. What if the President was a mutant? Can you imagine how quickly they'd drop this registration act nonsense?" Jean's jaw dropped. She never thought the day would come when one of their own would side with the biggest mutant threat to the free world.

"It doesn't matter," Jean shouted in reply. "The President didn't ask to be made into a mutant,"

"Neither did we!" Storm responded, raising her voice to match her friends. "I'm just wondering if maybe Magneto's right is all!"

"And what about Rogue, huh?" Jean demanded, angrily brushing her hair out of her face. "Are you just going to leave her with Magnus? He kidnapped her 'Ro!" Storm stopped pacing and leaned back against the wall, slamming one fist into it.

"No, we just wait until after to-"

"You can't wait until after, Ororo! You didn't see what I saw," Jean shouted, throwing her hands out. "He's going to kill her!" Ororo opened up her mouth to protest when a series of pounding footsteps outside attracted both their attentions. Suddenly the footsteps stopped, giving way to a tremendous pounding against the door. The bolts actually jumped a few times before Kitty's head appeared through the door. Without a word, she reached over and fingered the lock toggle from inside. The doors slid open and Piotr charged through Kitty and into the room.

"What?" 'Ro demanded as Piotr doubled over, hands on his knees, panting in exhaustion. "What's wrong?" But Jean pulled the answer from his mind before he could catch his breath.

"Kelly's dead?" she demanded.

"Nyet," Piotr panted. "Not just dead. He…" and he shrugged, looking at Kitty. "What's is da word."

"He liquified," she pseudo-explained. "All over Pete's hands, and the floor, and…and…" The girl stuttered, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick.

"Da, it was all over." Piotr confirmed. With an 'I told you so' glare, Jean stared at Ororo.

"Right," she said. "Right…I'll go get Logan. You suit up." She strode out of the room, taking Piotr and Kitty with her. "We'll assemble at the Blackbird in 10 minutes."

* * *

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Jubilee came charging down the hall in a similar fashion, dragging one Jamie of several behind her. She pounded on the war room door, shouting at the top of her lungs.

"Jean! Jean, open up!" she cried. The doors parted underneath her hand, but it wasn't Jean who opened them, but Kitty. Jubilee paused mid-yell. "Kitty? How'd you get in there?" she asked, dumbfounded. Kitty cocked an eyebrow at her friend.

"Um, walked through the wall."

"Where's Jean?"

"Mission."

"Well, get her on a comm, we have a problem," she muttered, jerking Jamie around to stand in front of her, forcing out a duplicate. Both Jamies stood with their heads bowed, looking thoroughly chastised (and slight scared of the fuming Jubilee).

"What?" Kitty demanded, looking from the boys to her friend. "Someone had better spill. Right now." One of the Jamie's (the original, Kitty thought) wrung his hands together and cleared his throat.

"Well…the boys and me…we sort of untied that kid Jean had tied to a bed in a med lab…andnowwecan'tfindhim," the last part came out as a jumbled mess. Jubilee stared poignantly at Kitty. They were completely silent for a moment, before Kitty said,

"We are so screwed."

"Yup."

"I'll get Jean on the phone."

* * *

For the moment, Rogue was trying to forget the fact that she was naked as the day she was born. The fact that she was shackled to the deck of a speedboat under the control of a man with a fourteen-foot tongue and captained by a guy hell-bent on the destruction of humanity helped in distracting her. However, shortly into their voyage Magneto dismissed Toad from the wheel and sent him on some meaningless errand. As he approached Rogue, she could only assume that he was using his power to keep the boat on a safe course. Either that or they were so far out there was no risk they'd hit anything.

As he bore down on her, Rogue was almost positive he was going to strike her. She fought back the urge to duck her head as he raised a hand from beneath his cloak. But instead of hitting her, her dropped a bundle of black cloth into her lap.

"Put those on," he ordered her. With the limited mobility that her shackles offered, Rogue unfolded a ratty tee shirt and a pair of stretchy, workout pants. Quickly, she struggled into the clothing, feeding her chains though the arm and leg holes in the garments. That was going to make for difficulty getting off the boat, but that was the least of the girl's concern.

"Why…?" she started to demand as Magnus paced back to the front of the open air deck, but he cut her off with his answer of,

"Cause if you sit their naked any longer, I can't ensure that Creed won't jump you right this moment." After a brief pause, he added, "I'm going to need him alive later."

"What, exactly, are you doing wandering around with a ladies outfit in your cloak?" she demanded, in an ungrateful tone. She saw Mystique pause by the cabin doorframe, eavesdropping for his answer. Magneto was hardly flustered.

"They belonged to you friend, Carol," he hissed dangerously, staring out over the glassy ocean. Rogue felt a surge of anger rising within her at the mention of her companion's name.

"I don't know what you've got planned, but you won't get away with it," she said maliciously. "The evil bastard with visions of world domination never wins. Anything!"

"It's not world domination that I want. It's the safety of every mutant on the planet. It's a shame you won't be around to see what you will accomplish." This was news to Rogue. With a higher degree of calmness than she felt, she asked,

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Yes." There was no emotion in his voice, no resentment, no sadness. He didn't feel any, cause he was positive this was the last choice, the right choice. Erik truly believed himself to be the mutant messiah. But instead of killing himself, Rogue was going to die for him, for his sins. To save mutants across the world, Magneto was going to kill Rogue. And as he walked to the bulkhead of the ship, leaving the girl to ponder her fate, the chains around her seemed to strain as she cursed him with all the power in her lungs.

* * *

"Jean?" The comm aboard the hull of the Blackbird crackled to life. "Jean, do you copy?" Jean and 'Ro shot each other looks out the corners of their eyes before Jean responded.

"I read you Kitty? What's the problem?"

"Apparently that kid you tied to a bed in the back annals of the medlab escaped, with a little help from about 15 Jamies and…"

"Since when do we tie children up in the med lab, anyway?" Ororo cut in, glaring furiously at her doctor/friend. "Isn't there something against that in the Hippocratic oath you took?" Burying her head in her hands with a frustrated groan, Jean cast out a telepathic net, encasing the entire Blackbird.

"Kitty, tell Jamie we're going to have a long talk when we get home, and clear this channel," she spoke into the comm. Then, taking her finger off the button, she turned to look at Logan over the back of her co-pilot's chair. He was distracted, tugging at his uniform collar and looking thoroughly uncomfortable, though Jean was positive he hadn't missed a word of the conversation. "Logan, would you be kind enough to get up, and remove the floor panel three back and one to your left."

Without a word, the man rose and heaved up the heavy panel like it was made of Styrofoam. Peering out from the darkness of the electrical access hold below, a pair of red eyes blinked in the light.

"We dere' yet…oh crap, not you 'gain," Remy cussed as he was unceremoniously hauled out of his hiding place by the front of his shirt. "Listen, ah know you gonna be all pissed and try n' kick my ass in 'bout tree seconds, but 'fore you do," however, as it turned out, Remy's biggest threat wasn't the hairy Canadian holding him a foot above the floor, the but the overstressed redhead flying the plane. Without warning or explanation, Remy found himself flying through the air and landed on his back at the rear of the ship.

"Tell me, Remy," Jean asked in a cool tone, not once looking away from her controls, "exactly what part of 'stay put' don't you understand? Is it the 'stay' or the 'put'?"

"Now wait a sec," he began to protest indignantly, but when the Cajun attempted to get to his feet, he found himself unable to do so, as if a giant hand was pinning him to the floor.

"'Cause you seem like a smart boy, yet you're just totally unable to follow basic instructions…" she continued, each word dripping with disdain.

"Lady, Ah been called a lot o' tings in mah life, but stupid ain't ever been one of 'em!"

"I didn't called you stupid," Jean retorted, in a manner so foreign that Ororo was could do little but stare at her friend in disbelief. "I just implied it. At least you were smart enough to pick up on that…"

"Alright, tat does it!" Remy exclaimed, swinging wildly back and forth, trying to break free. However, Jean had a firm mental grip of the thief, and he wasn't go anywhere. Still, he continued to flop around, looking like a fish out of water. "Ah'm gonna show you just how stupid Ah am when Ah take that pretty, little head o' yours and," but a close up shot of the three claws poised directly over his eyes shut Remy up fast.

"That ain't no way to talk to a lady, bub," Logan mocked, squatting beside the young man's prone body, thoroughly enjoying his discomfiture.

Meanwhile, Storm was puzzled by the rather cruel change in her co-pilot. It wasn't like Jean to taunt and harass, especially not to the young man who was still considered a patient of hers.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed at her friend, but Jean held up her hand, silencing the weather witch. Her brow creased in concentration, she turned around and glared at the two boys behind her. The struggling Remy suddenly went limp against his telekinetic bonds that strapped him to the floor. There was utter silence on the ship for a few seconds as Logan and Ororo stared at one another, equally perplexed. Then as suddenly as the silence had begun, it was broken as Remy began thrashing again, finishing the curse that had been frozen on his lips. Jean shook her head slightly, her face expressionless, but her mental voice sounded as if it concealed a smug smile.

_"Kid's got a mental shield that's seamless as glass. Doesn't even know he's got it. Any idea what a quick way is to get rid of an involuntary telepathic shield?"_ Storm groaned inwardly at Jean's telepathic query.

"No, but I'm going to take a guess and suggest that pissing him off usually does the trick?" she whispered back. Before receiving an answer she ventured on, "why?"

_"Did I need to get inside in the first place?"_ Jean asked, finishing the question for her. Storm nodded, correcting their cruising altitude as they entered a jet stream of cold air. _"Because we don't have time to drop him off back home, and if he's coming with us, than I had to know what we're dealing with."_

"And what did you discover, you snoop?" 'Ro chided. However, Jean didn't respond directly. Instead she correctly their telemetry a bit, and freed Remy from his kinetic bondage.

"Logan," she called over her should, speaking aloud this time, "why don't you put those claws away and let the poor boy up? In fact," she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "why don't you grab him a spare uniform out of the cabinet behind you?" The effect of her words was instantaneous.

"Yer kidding?" Logan demanded, "We ain't bringin' him with us!"

"Ah ain't wearin' dat ting!" Remy exclaimed, pointing at Logan's uniform. "Ah didn't sign up fo' dis party!" Both men's complaints got lost and tangled up with one another's, coming out as a giant string of noisy gibberish that echoed around the deck of the _Blackbird_. Jean chose to ignore what Remy had to say, probably because she had a feeling he was going to be the one responsible for the mess in her med-lab when they returned home.

"No, I'm not kidding at all Logan," she replied tartly, "he's going to help us get Rogue back, so stop trying to decapitate him and hand him a uniform," she ordered. Grumbling the entire time, the Canadian reached behind him and chucked a balled up uniform at Remy. Hard.

Despite his quick reflexes, the Cajun caught the leather mass in the gut, and doubled over with a soft,"Ugh!"

"Logan…" Ororo called out in a warning tone. Logan sauntered back to his seat, looking rather smug, and muttering something that sounded remotely like, "swamprat…." Unfolding the suit, Remy stared at it with a almost pained expression on his face.

"Ah'm really supposed ta wear dis?" he asked, plaintively.

"Either that or I hurl you out the rear hatch," Storm responded, her mood growing steadily worse as they got closer to the New York harbor. "Your choice."

Remy was out of his coat and unbuttoning his shirt so fast that spectators would have though it was on fire. A grim look on her face, Storm turned back to her console.

"Jean?" She whispered, inclining her head as if she was looking over at Jean's radar screen. "Tell me you found something good in that boy's head?" she pleaded. Jean suppressed a small smile, feeling slightly hopeful, more so than she had all day.

"'Ro," she said aloud, "you have no idea."

* * *

A/N: Feel free to shoot me this time. I deserve it. Just review before you do, thanks ;) 


	20. Crisscross And Conflicting Stories

Rogue got a first hand look at the kind of destruction that Magneto's death squad, his brotherhood, were capable of. Despite being only three in number, they moved with the ease of well-orchestrated team. All ridiculousness aside, Toad took out one guard after another walking along the Ellis Island beach, catapulting down on top of them from the platform around the statue above. The hairy man, Sabretooth, and Mystique effectively disabled the crews of the two patrol boats. Sabretooth mercilessly slaughtering all those aboard, and Mystique masking their deaths with an array of forms and voices. It was all over in a matter of minutes, and Rogue had a front row seat from where she was now chained to a circular contraption on the back hull of Magneto's boat.

"Ah can't believe Ah'm doin dis," Remy complained once again, tugging at the sleeves of his uniform. "'Dis just ain't natural."

"It's a little small, I know," Jean said with t a shrug. "It's one of Scott's spares, and I'm afraid you've got a few more inches you than he does. But trust me, first time you get hit with a laser beam or something, you'll be glad you've got it." Remy grunted in reply before throwing his coat back on, trying to conceal the black leather as much as possible.

"Dat's all fine an' good, but Ah'm not sure Ah can bend over in dis ting, so let's all hope none o' dats gonna be required on dis here little mission."

"I think you'll find that that's going to be the least of your problems, bub," Logan jeered, getting over his own uniform reservations rather quickly. The two exchanged dirty looks, and if it hadn't been for the ever-present threat of the return of the claws, Remy might have wiped the smug looks of the older man's face right then and there. However, as he'd told Jean before, he was a great many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He let the comment slide, but Storm was feeling less amenable towards all the male posturing going on behind her.

"Logan?" she asked, raw fury evident in her voice. "You want to get Rogue back safe and sound right?"

"Well yeah, but," he started to reply but she cut him off.

"Good. And you," she said, jerking her head in Remy's general direction, but at a complete loss for his name, "kid? You want to get her back too."

"Dat's why Ah'm here, chere," was his glib reply.

"Fine. Then _until_ we've accomplished that mutual goal, the two of you are going to get along, or you're going to find out why that old quote ought to be 'hell hath no fury like a woman named Storm.' Got it!" There were audible gulps from both men and they quickly replied in unison.

"Got it."

"Excellent," Ororo responded, her voice returning to it's sweet, mellow pitch. "New kid," she started to say.

"Da name's Remy, petite," the Cajun interjected.

"Remy then," Storm corrected herself, "come up here and get the mission rundown. We're almost there and if you're coming with you need to know what's going on." Naturally, the thief approached the cockpit with some trepidation. And who could blame him. After all, the woman claiming to be his doctor had just given him a beating that made Mama Cece's worst look like child's play, and the other woman with the white hair had threatened to drop him from a plane and kill him. However, he fought his growing fears regarding the female of the species and stuck his head up between the pilot and co-pilot chairs.

"A'right, what's dis situation?" he asked pleasantly, leaning against the side of Jean's chair. He tried not to notice that his uniform squeaked like clean linoleum when it rubbed across his skin. Jean took over, since most of Storm's focus was on an getting them into the harbor unnoticed.

"First things first, I'm Jean Grey," she said, sticking out her hand. "I'm your doctor, we met earlier." Remy took her hand willingly and gave it a shake.

"Ah do recall our first meetin', doctor," he said. "Seems ta me it occurred while you were strappin' me to a bed. Not dat Ah minded da bed part. It was da giant needle dat you jammed into mah neck dat really bothered me." Jean didn't need to be a telepath to detect his sarcasm.

"Yes, well I'm sorry about that. I'm afraid you dropping in on things at a very difficult time, and we weren't as ready for the challenge as we'd hoped," she explained, her mind drifting back to where her mentor and fiancé lay comatose in the medlab. Her expression dropped notably. "Two of our team members were attacked and taken out of commission recently. That, in conjunction with Rogue's kidnapping and this event…it's been a lot to handle." Remy instantly regretted his words. After all, hadn't his family tied Rogue up in his basement just days earlier?

"No harm, no foul, chere," he said softly, inclining his head slightly in Jean's direction, and putting on his best charming smile. "Let's just call it even an' move on. Who be dis pretty thing sitting next to you?" he asked, turning to Storm and giving her a jaunty wink. The older woman never took her eyes off the sky.

"This is Ororo Munroe, but you'll refer to her as Storm in the field," Jean explained. "She's in charge here, and if you want anything to do with helping get your friend out of this jam and, you know, saving the leaders of the free world while we're at it, you'd better be ready to take orders from her, clear?"

"Absolutment," he said, with a slight flourish of his hand. "Stormy, pleased to meet you. Ah'm gonna guess dat by da nickname, you da one causing dis sudden fog?"

"That would be me, yes," the whether goddess said, he eyes going milky white as she tapped into her powers. "A little bit of cover just to make sure we aren't discovered. We're coming up on the bridge now," she finshed, directing that final comment at Jean, who nodded in response, and tapped something on the radar screen behind her.

"And I believe you and Logan have already met," the redhead said with some reserve. The less those two interacted, the better.

"Yeah, the hairy one and Ah have been introduced already. Who cares. What Ah want to know is who we really gonna be fightin'," Remy finished, feeling the adrenaline beginning to pound in his veins. As the giant statue symbolizing American and all it's freedoms became visible through the dense fog, he felt raring to go. It was time to get down to business; it was time to finish what he'd started.

He promise Rogue he was going to help get her out of harms way, and now he was going to do just that. His attention elsewhere, he missed the small smile that Jean gave him, before jumping back to business.

"His name is Erik Lehnsherr, but the world knows him as Magneto…"

* * *

All his preparations ready, Magneto approached Rogue, where she sat on her knees, hands bound to the metal pylons of his machine. The girl regarded him with a cool stare, but said nothing.

"It's time," he said quietly. "You should know that you will be credited with the survival of our species. I'm sorry that you can't seem to accept that." Rogue tried hard to resist silently, but she was just couldn't.

"You won't get away with this!" she blurted out. "The X-men,"

"-Aren't coming, I'm afraid," Magnus finished for her, what little sympathy he'd had for the girl completely gone. "I've seen to that. Mystique was gracious enough to make sure that both your Professor and his pet Cyclops would be unable to intervene. It would have been easy to kill them both," he boasted, "but they just might prove useful yet. Unlike you're thief friend, I'm afraid." Rogue's blood ran cold, her heart beating erratically. It was an effort to push her next question past her lips.

"What did you do to him? What did you do to Remy?" she demanded, her fingers itching to grab the old man by the neck and squeeze until he turned purple. Her desire to do so doubled when her captor grinned smugly.

"My dear, he was white trash. Mutant or not, her was no good to anybody. I saw to it personally that he would no longer be a drain on the resources of the planet." A fire unlike anything else rose in Rogue's chest. She lashed out, straining against her bindings, trying desperately to reach the deranged man before her.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed. "You evil bastard. I hope you rot in hell, she cursed, the blood pounding behind her eyes, her heart in her throat. There was no grief for her fallen comrade, her friend. There was only a blinding rage, thick as molasses, gripping her heart.

Magneto leaned close to her, gloating proudly and reveling in his prowess over her. "I'll see you there, m'dear. You, and the little thief, and his blonde, bombshell girlfriend. It should be one hell of a time." Rogue rocked backwards, shocked by what she'd just been told. If it hadn't been for the handcuffs binding her upright, she'd have tumbled off the machine platform. And at that moment, the machine platform was suspended 15 feet in the air and climbing. It was only as she rose, that the actual sadness stuck her. And the blow was sharp. Hard. Painful.

Closing her eyes tightly, Rogue allowed only two tears to escape from her control.

One tear for Belladonna. One tear for Remy.

Rogue's eyes were dry by the time the faux torch, and the machine were both in place. She was dying inside, but she wasn't going to give Magneto the satisfaction of seeing her cry. It wasn't as if she had that long to live herself. If she was going to die, she was going to go down fighting and with her head held high.

It's what Remy would have wanted her to do.

* * *

"Remy, humor me, what's your last name?" Ororo asked, furrowing her eyebrows together. There was something familiar about the man that she just couldn't place. Not anything specific, just the certain way in which he spoke, in the slight sway in his step, in the way he seemed to be constantly analyzing his surroundings, that stuck a chord in her memory she just couldn't place.

"LeBeau. Remy LeBeau be mah given' name chere. Pourquoi?" he asked off-handedly as they crossed over the dark tableau at the base of the towering statue. Inwardly, Storm groaned.

"I take it that you're the son of Jean-Luc LeBeau, then? Of the Guild?"

"Ah'm his adopted son, but yeah…how'd you know dat?" he demanded, at least having the sense to be quiet about it. He turned in around and walked backwards, regarding the white-haired woman quizzically as he went. "Mah reputation proceedin' me again?"

"Hardly boy," was the goddess's sharp reply, "but your old man and I crossed paths more than once in our lives. Learned a lot from him. Good man, Jean-Luc was. Damn good at what he did, too," she said, her voice soft and reminiscent. If the boy was half as good as his dad was, he might be more of an asset to the team than even Jean could understand. Remy, however, was still in a state of shock, and promptly tripped over a raised crack in the pavement, falling flat on his ass.

"You?" he stammered, still on the ground. "You mean to tell me dat _you_ picked wit mah old man?" He stared at Ororo incredulously from the ground, unaware that he had even fallen until she offered him a hand.

"Sure. I wasn't always a teacher," she explained, hauling the young man to his feet with more strength than he'd anticipated. "When my parents died I had no one. I picked in Cairo to pay for my passage here, and I picked here to survive," she said. "I ran across your dad in Georgia when I was sixteen. He was running a gambling ring outside of Atlanta. I flirted with him and he taught me the best tricks in the book," she added coyly, catching Remy totally off guard. He chuckled lightly at her last remark, though.

"Yeah, ol' man did always have a ting for de ladies. Ah'd be disappointed ta call him father if he'd passed up you," the Cajun said with a sad smile. He tried his best not to think about all the things he was leaving behind, but it was impossible to forget them all. The guild had been the only family he'd ever known…and he would never be able to show his face there again. Not to mention that person's he'd left his life behind for might be dying as they speak.

"You be sure to give him my regards next time to talk to the man, alright?" Ororo said, reveling in her memories of days past. Keeping pace with her, Remy nodded weakly.

"Ah'll be sure to do dat," he said quietly, burying his hands in his pockets. 'Ro caught the change in his tone. Lowering her voice, she said,

"You risked everything to get her out, didn't you?" His only response was a nod and a slight shrug. "You're talking to someone who understands better than you think, Remy," she went on, trying to be sympathetic. "I know what that kind of life is like, I know what you must be going through right now, and I want to be the first to say thank you for what you did." He turned to look at her in surprise; his red eyes eerily illuminate in the darkness.

"Why?" he asked incredulously as the foursome approached the main entrance. Storm smiled.

"Because it was noble. So let's go make sure that your sacrifice wasn't for nothing, alright?" Remy couldn't help but return her smile, feeling his confidence bolster. Next to them, Jean prepared to dispense of the lock, but close inspection revealed that it had already been taken care of-in a way that left a gaping hole in the door.

"Here we go," the doctor muttered grimly. "Showtime." Remy gave a slight bow and waved his arm out in front of him.

"After you, fearless leader." Storm winked at him slightly as she strode past and inside.


	21. Brotherhood Battle 101

They trudged through the dark building in a single file line: Ororo in the lead, followed closely by Jean. Logan tailed close behind her, with Remy bringing up the rear, being sure to leave enough room between the Canadian and himself. He moved with the silent grace of a born thief, totally at home with the darkness around him. He couldn't help but treat the situation as if it was a routine, high-stakes job. He peered around, noting the positions of security cameras, as well as looking for possible exits, and places he didn't want to get cornered in. He couldn't help himself, that kind of thinking was an instinct now. He couldn't turn it off, just like he couldn't help by notice that security was somewhat lacking.

"Dis is still a national monument, non?" he asked quietly as they encroached their third flight of stairs. Above him, Logan groaned.

"Last time I checked, Cajun, it still was," he said. Then, knowing he was going to regret it, he ventured to ask, "why?"

"Cause Ah've seen strip clubs wit tighter security den dis," Remy replied, spying yet another security camera that didn't seem to be moving or working. In front of him, Logan sniffed the air deeply, discovering what he'd expected.

"The place has plenty of security kid," he muttered. "Someone just took care of them for us." He counted the scents of at least three different bodies near the stairwell. When he was back in the openly circulating air of one of the display floors, he figured they would be likely to discover more.

Exiting the stairwell at the tallest museum floor, they found it lit by dim, emergency lighting, and as empty of security as the previous floors had been. Moving out of the stairwell and into the open room, Storm began explaining the layout to her troops.

"This is the highest historical floor. The stairs to the viewing chamber in the crown of the statue are across the floor and around the corner there," she gestured, pointing in front of them and to the left, where a blinking EXIT sign was the only indicator of a opening there. Remy craned his head back and looked at the narrow strip of displays that circled the historical floor a half-story above.

"What about up dere?" he asked, pointing. Storm didn't look up, but instead gestured to her left, where a giant, industrial door on a sliding track hung over an opening.

"Stairs to that mezzanine level are over there, but that's as high as they go. There's no viewing deck access from that level. You have to come down to go back up." She opened her mouth to say more, but a raucous alarm bell interrupted her.

WHAAA-WHAAA-WHAAA-WHAAA-WHAAA…

The metal detector screamed as Logan passed beneath the security archway. The two women whirled around in surprise as the machine screeched into the dark.

WHAAA-WHAAA-WhAAA-WHA-aaaaa….

With a faint SNIKT sound, Logan drove both sets of his claws into the red lights flashing on the side of the machine. With a pitiful wail and a shower of sparks, the siren died, leaving the four mutants to gape at each other in silence. Logan moved through the archway sullenly, and Remy slipped through after him.

"Real smooth dere, homme," he muttered as a handful of sparks leapt up in his face. "If dat wasn't obvious, Ah don't know what," he started to say when both Logan and Jean tensed and stopped, Logan holding up a hand for silence.

"We've been discovered," Jean said, casting out a telepathic net. She wasn't strong enough to hone in on who it was, just enough to know that they were quickly approaching.

"Gee, Ah wonder who's fault dat is," Remy hissed under his breath. However he slipped into defensive mode, peering around himself into the darkness. He pulled out his deck of cards and held gripped them tightly in his half-gloved, left hand. The feel of the tattered jack of clubs beneath his fingers was comforting. Still sniffing like a bloodhound, Logan walked away, venturing into a small, dark passage to the left.

"Logan," Storm hissed. "Get back here." Either the feral man didn't hear her, or more likely, he just chose to ignore her. However, a few seconds later he reappeared.

"They're close, I just can't tell where," and that's when a figure leapt from the shadows, tackling him from the side, and knocking them both back into the dark hallway. When the fighting duo finally passed under the light, what Remy, Jean and Storm saw was Logan fighting…Logan.

"Well crap," was all Remy heard from Storm before he got a hit from behind, a swift kick to the back that sent him tumbling forward.

Recovering with the speed of a natural acrobat, he turned the uncontrolled tumble into a neat forward roll. Landing on his feet in a crouch, the Cajun whirled to face his attacker. However, the only thing he saw was Jean getting to her feet, having been knocked to the floor. Storm was persuing the two, quickly moving Logans down the hall and into an adjoining room. He and Jean were on their own, with an attacker they couldn't see. He moved to her side.

"Wait…" she muttered, as they stood side by side, peering into the darkness, trying to distinguish statues from humans. "Just wait…"

Neither of them moved for a full minute, waiting with bated breath. "I can feel him," Jean whispered. "When I tell you Remy, duck…"

"What?" Remy had only a nano-second to wonder before Jean yelled,

"NOW!" Remy hit his knees and Toad sailed by, just over his head. With reflexes bred for speed, the thief recovered and sent three charged cards spiraling into the darkness after the reptilian mutant. A brilliant explosion occurred, knocking over several displays and issuing a yelp of pain telling Remy that his cards had hit home.

Not waiting for the smoke to clear, Remy charged headlong into the billowing cloud.

"Stay close," was the only thing Remy heard from Jean before the jeering started.

"Wot? Jus' two li'l X-Men gangin' up on poor Toad?" The voice was came from the left in the dust cloud. "That don't seem quite fair." This time the voice came from the right.

"Neit'er is hittin' a guy when his back is turned," Remy called back, hoping to pinpoint the mutants location. "And dat didn' seem ta stop you, now did it?" The only response was a small statue of lady liberty that went whizzing past his head. "Now dat just ain't cool!" However, a yelp of pain penetrated smoke, followed by a loud crash.

"I got him, Remy," Jean called out as the smoke began to fade. "Get out into the open." There was another loud **THUNK**.

Escaping from the fading cloud, the thief found Jean pitching the ugly mutant back and forth into display cases.

"Never lose sight of your target," she explained to the novice, kinetically hurling Toad out of the ruins of a case documenting the building of the monument, and into one depicting French and American contractual documents. "It's the first rule of combat."

Toad didn't give a shit about rules of combat though. All he knew was that he was tired of being treated like a mutant dodgeball. Twisting in midair, slammed into the glass feet first this time. Pounding off the back wall of the case, he propelled himself out with the force of a bullet, right at Jean. She recovered quickly enough, and dropped backwards to avoid being hit. Again, Remy chased the annoying mutant down with a series of explosive cards.

"Anyone else tink it's highly disturbin' dat dis guys weapon is a fourteen foot tongue?" Remy asked sarcastically. "Ah mean, deres just some tings you don' want in your mouth."

"Focus, Remy," Jean chastised gently as she leapt to her feet. Toad had used his momentum from being thrown by Remy's blast to try and rocket himself into Jean yet again. She caught him in a kinetic vice grip this time, and put him through a plaster model of the Statue of Liberty next to one of the Eiffel Tower. It was obvious from their banter that both mutants considered Toad to be more of a nuisance than a threat.

However, it was a good warm up for Remy, Jean thought, and the boy was handling himself well. The two joined each other in the center of the room, as Toad cavorted off the guardrails surrounding the walkway above, keeping out of both mutant's ranges. Looking for point of attack, or obvious weakness, and finding none, Toad landed on the floor before the dynamic duo, instantly lashing out his tongue.

The slimy length shot between the two mutants, missing them both by a considerable distance. Which was fine, considering that they weren't the targets anyway. It wrapped around a random pipe along the wall, used for hot air distribution or something. With a firm tug, the pipe bowed out and broke, snapping a four-foot length of it back at Remy and Jean. It was a good idea, and it might have worked had it happened quicker, and had both of X-Men been blind. As Toad jerked the pipe back, Jean floated over it, and Remy crouched down, allowing it to sail over his head. Toad unwound his tongue and caught the rod just before it would have cracked him in the mouth.

In the blink of his yellow eyes, he vaulted at Remy, bringing the pipe back above his head, so that he could strike a blow as he landed, coupling his own downward momentum with his arm strength.

However, Remy caught the end of the pipe as it arced toward his head.

"You lookin' at de master o' dis weapon, boy," he jeered. "Don't you come over here expectin' to hit anyting." With a twist and a jerk he wrenched it from the grasp of the shorter mutant. He grappled with the pipe, getting the feel of it and taking a swing. With a flourish, he clipped Toad's leg, tipping him over.

"'Ey, that's mine!" Toad cried as he toppled to the ground. Then, taking the phrase 'tongue lashing' seriously, he shot out his tongue and wrapped it around the pipe a few times over.

"Well, if you be wantin' it back dat badly," Remy said, standing in false contemplation. "Ah guess Ah should give it back." Then, he released the pipe, letting elasticity and tension do it's job. The pipe flew back and hit Toad square in the nose, and by the time his vision had cleared and he had time to register that the pipe was glowing bright pink, it was too late unwind it from his tongue.

The blast was impressive, blowing Toad 10 feet across the room and into a series of glass viewing windows. It also left about two feet of the mutant's singed tongue lying on the floor where he'd been sitting only seconds before. Jean took it from there.

"Game over, Toad," she told him, the minute before she hit him with a telekinetic 'punch' that blew him threw the window. Jean made sure that she launched him far enough so that he would hit the water and not the concrete or the rocks of the island below. Beyond that, she didn't really care where he landed. With a flip of her ponytail, she turned to regard Remy.

"You did good," she told him with a soft smile. "I knew you would." But Remy wasn't listening.

"Shame Ah had to blow da pipe," he muttered. "Could've used it." He joined Jean as she gestured for him to follow. They went to check on Storm's situation, as Remy whined, "damn, Ah miss mah bo staff."

* * *

The brawl with Mystique was fast and ugly, though Logan had to admit: fighting someone who looked and smelled just like himself was unnerving. His copy was faster than he was, and more flexible. For each blow he landed, his duplicated landed two or three. However, he was more both more experienced with his claws, and could put more muscle behind each blow. The two circled one another while Storm watched in awe. Unsure of which was which, she couldn't risk taking out a member of her quickly shrinking team. She started at the fighting duo, but each time she had Mystique locked in her sight, the two circled again, and she lost her.

Wounds didn't help either. When Logan got hit, the healed up almost instantly. When Mystique got hit, she covered them up just as quickly. When one Logan threw the other into the chin link fence of the storage cage behind him, it seemed like it was all over. And for Storm it was. She had had enough.

"This ends now!" she cried. Raising her hands, she drew in the air from the chamber and hallway beyond, and directed them like a music conductor. In a matter seconds, she had created a whirling cyclone within the small confines. With each passing moment, the speed increased, throwing boxes packages against walls, and into the still dueling Wolverines. Both fought the wind, though, Storm began to notice that one duplicate was struggling more than the other. As the fury of the tornado increased, the flailing Logan was eventually picked up by the wind, in mid-kick, and thrown back against the wall. That's when Ororo was sure.

Still plastered against the wall, 'Ro advanced on Mystique from one angle, slowing the winds as she went. The real Logan approached her from the other direction. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Mystique, still in the guise of Logan, did exactly what Storm had hoped she would. Diving at the goddess, mock claws unsheathed, she screamed in a blind rage. That scream of anger quickly turned to one of pain as Ororo hit her with a mini bolt of lightning just a moment before she would have struck right in the chest.

The shock knocked the shapeshifter backwards, where she fell onto the real Logan's claws. The three shining blades stuck her through the back, emerging just below her heart on the other side. As blood began to drip from the wound, Mystique's disguise began to give way to her usual blue self. With a muted groan of pain she slipped off the claws and slumped to the floor.

Both breathing hard, Logan and Ororo started at the fallen mutant while they collected their thoughts. Finally Logan broke the silence.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, sheathing both sets of claws with a soft SNAKT.

"Played a hunch."

"What hunch?"

"That a guy who's bones are all coated with indestructible metal wouldn't get blown around as badly a woman pretending that her's were," she said, turning and strutting out of the room. Logan paused in the doorway and looked at the fallen Mystique one final time.

"Good hunch."

* * *

The rag-tag gang of heroes regrouped at the foot of the final staircase. The fight had appeared to agitate Logan, who charged up the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, much to Storm's dismay.

"We've got to stick together," she chastised him when they both finally arrived on the viewing deck. Remy was unable to mask a jaunty grin at the sight of the headstrong Canadian getting scolded by a woman half his age. It would have been a downright funny sight, if Logan hadn't suddenly flow back and hit the wall a split-second later, issuing a feral roar.

"Merdre," Remy cussed. He'd seen that happen before, back when Magneto had attacked them in Louisiana. "Move!" he shouted, grabbing Jean's wrist and turning back towards the stairs. But it was already too late.

Steel girders ripped themselves from the wall and wrapped around the three remaining mutants. With sickening force, all three were thrown back against the wall, prisoners trapped with a symbol of freedom.


	22. Win the Battle, Stop the War

"Well…dis ain't good."

Alright, so it wasn't the most eloquent response. However, Remy hadn't been having the best day. And the fact that he was currently being pinned to the inside wall of the Statue of Liberty's head by pieces of steel rebar wrapped around his wait and wrists wasn't helping matters any. So yeah, Remy was at a loss for words. But, then again, that was the least of his problems.

Presently, the man floating down through the gaping hole in the ceiling was the big problem. Remy recalled their last meeting, and swallowed hard against the nervous bile that rose in this throat. He'd gotten beat hard by Magneto in Louisiana. Make no mistake, it wasn't going to happen again.

"Welcome, my brothers, to the dawning of glorious new future," Magnus crowed, touching down in the center of the room. A smirking Sabretooth leapt down behind him. Both men scanned their captives with eager eyes. Cynically, he addressed them each in turn. "Storm, Jean, so good of you to join us. I'm sorry that Cyclops could not attend." Jean scowled at him, narrowing her eyes, but said nothing. Magneto sent an oily, sweet smile in her direction.

"Don't strain yourself, m'dear," he advised, tapping his oblong helmet with one long, gnarled finger. "If Charles couldn't break through this little helmet of mine, I doubt that _you'll_ be able to." From the fiery look in Jean's eyes, Remy figured she was fighting the urge to spit in the man's eye as he leaned in close to her. Magnus got the hint, however, and moved on to his right, gloating over Logan.

"And once again the Wolverine has run into a trap from which he cannot escape," the older man boasted, admiring his full control over the raging Canadian.

"You sonufabitch," Logan snarled back, practically foaming at the mouth. "It should be you up in that thing!" In response, Magneto raised his hand up in front of himself and closed it into a fist. The sound of the warping of the metal on Logan's bones was practically audible, but the man never expressed the pain he was obviously in. Under no control of his own, Logan's arms crossed over his chest, each fist aimed at his own neck. "That ought to encourage you to play nice with those claws of yours." Just to be sure though, Magnus fastened a metal girder around each of the man's wrists. Moving on to a fresh victim, Erik rounded on Remy.

"And last, but certainly not least, the Cajun thief," he crooned, sauntering over to stand before the boy. "You are supposed to be dead. No matter, though. Now you'll get the opportunity to witness the rise of Homo superior as the dominant species on the planet." Remy opened his mouth to respond, but Storm beat him to it.

"Genocide will only beget genocide, Magnus," Ororo replied calmly. "You should know that better than anyone." The old mutant stiffened visibly, and Storm knew she'd hit a nerve.

"How many times have you been harassed because of what you are, Storm?" he asked slowly, dangerously. "I expected you, better than anyone, to see the wisdom behind my plans?"

"Your plans," she hissed, all the fury of a tornado concealed within her voice, "will kill the leaders of the free world, not to mention half the population of New York. Excuse me for having a slight problem with that."

"You're wrong," he cried. "These men and women will leave this conference as brothers of the mutant race. They will never pass that foolish law when the lawmakers themselves are all mutants."

"And that bill will pass twice as fast when all the lawmakers are dead," Jean jumped in. "Just like how Senator Kelly is dead." That information was clearly not Magneto expected to hear. He strode over to stand before her, regarding her with fascination and…pride.

"So, Kelly survived the trip back to land," he mused, almost as if talking to himself. "He's more powerful than I expected."

"He was until he died," Jean exclaimed. "The mutation triggered by the radiation your machine emits causes a unnatural breakdown in the nucleic structure of almost all bodily cells. Twelve hours after exposure the cell wall,"she explained in a doctoral fashion, however Magnus cut her off.

"Are you positive of his death, Dr. Grey?" he asked haughtily. "Are you sure you saw what you claim you saw?" But before Jean could respond, Magneto took to the air.

"Like it or not, X-Men, the future is coming tonight. I am going to ensure the survival of the mutant race, and I will not allow you to stop me!" And with that, he disappeared behind the torch, leaving the four X-Men under the watchful eyes of the pacing Sabretooth.

Almost instantly after Magneto disappeared, Victor Creed stalked over to regard the women, particularly Storm. She leaned as far back as the restraints around her shoulders and waist would allow as Victor approached her, but that didn't stop him from running a long, clawed finger down her cheek.

"Beautiful," he purred dangerously. His claw left a long scratch down the side of her face. "I want to hear you scream."

"Hey, pussy!" Remy barked up, "get da hell away from her!" He writhed painfully against his restraints, itching to come to her aid. But he was stuck fast. Magneto had obviously done his homework, as he'd made sure to strap his arms well out of the way of anything that he could potentially use as a weapon. The only thing the Cajun could do was squirm and shout. Not that he wasn't good at those things; they just weren't very helpful at the moment. Jean, on the other hand, was not so helpless. As Creed leaned in close to Ororo's face, he was suddenly thrown back against the far side of the room with sickening force.

"Leave her alone," Jean warned. "Or next time that's what I'm going to do to your brain." However her threat must not have registered too well, because Creed climbed back to his feet, and rounded on Jean.

"You're gonna regret that," he threatened. He never got the chance to act on that threat though, because that's when Logan lost it.

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhhh," he screamed in a feral manner, before extending both his claws with a resonating SNIKT.

"Logan!" Jean screamed both mentally and aloud as the man's claws drove into the arteries of his neck. With a sickening thud, Logan hit the ground face down as his claws sliced open his bindings. Lying in a quickly expanding puddle of his own blood, the man didn't move.

Jean and Storm looked on, apprehension visible on both their faces. Remy, on the other hand, wasn't the least bit concerned. He'd watched this man recover from what he knew to be a fatal wound administered by one of the best marksmen he'd ever seen. Call it a hunch, but Remy had a feeling that Logan was no deader this time than he had been before. Which is why he was all the more amused when Sabretooth abandon harassing the women to go investigate the seemingly dead body on the floor.

When he grabbed Logan by the shoulders to flip him over, Creed was certainly shocked when the dead man whirled around on him, jamming six claws into his stomach. With a roar, Victor whirled around, grabbing the revived Logan by the wrists and bringing him along for the ride. Using his momentum, Sabretooth pulled Logan's claws from his abdomen and tossed him through the hole in the roof. With a startling leap, Creed followed after, through the hole and out of sight.

"Well, dis ought to be interesting," Remy declared, as he and the girls peered out the hole and into the night.

The only clues as to what was taking place above them were the echoes of screams and the scratching and thumping of feet pounding around. However, things went from bad to worse as another scream peppered the cool, night air. This one a high, penetrating scream the made the hair on the back of Remy's neck stood on end.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

He recognized it instantly. "Rogue!" he shouted in response, but she never heard.

"Jean?" he demanded frantically, "while dat pussy cat's distracted, can you break dese bindings?"

"I can't," she admitted, though secretly, she'd been trying since the instant they'd been taken hostage. "Magneto's manipulated the magnetic field within,"

"Save it," he cut her off. "Storm, can you…?"

"I've got nothing, Remy," she said. "Not unless you want me to blow this place to hell, which isn't out of the question at this point. You're the master thief," she pointed out. "Any bright ideas." But, in fact, Storm's mention of blowing things to high hell had just given him one.

"Hey Jeannie?" he whispered across the room. "You said dis uniform strong. Jus' how strong we talkin' 'ere?"

"Wha," she started to ask aloud, but she picked the image out of his mind first. "Remy, don't!" But the chances he was going to listen in the first place were slim.

"Ah guess we're 'bout to find out den," he murmured, ignoring the warning. For the first time all night, he was thankful that his uniform was a little small. It meant that the sleeves of his overcoat hung past the cuffs. When Magneto had chained his wrists to the wall, it had bunched up his coat sleeves just enough so that he could grab a pinch of fabric between two fingers. Trying not to dwell on the fact that he could easily blow himself up in an instant, he charged up his coat, carefully. Too high and he would blow himself to pieces, too low and all he would do was vaporize his favorite coat. Finally, when he was sure the balance was right, he squinted his eyes shut and let go. Two heartbeats later the coat exploded.

"Holy hell!" Remy cussed as what felt like a line of fire ripped across the back of his neck, where his collar used to be. However, two loud clangs resonated about the room as the bars that had bound Remy's wrists fell free. Scorched and singed, the thief was just relieved to find all his limbs still attached. Though the blast had failed to break the metal pipe around his midsection, with his hands free, Remy made short work of that. Falling to the floor, he let out a small grunt before moving on to help the girls.

"See," Jean said as Remy charged her own restraints. "I told you you'd be glad you put that thing on." The Cajun was somewhat less amused.

"First mah bo staff, den mah coat," he muttered. "Dis jus' ain't been mah week. Let's go save de day, non?" Storm couldn't agree more.

Conjuring up her own personal updraft, she rose to the roof, where Logan and Creed were still grappling with one another.

"Logan," she called in a voice deep and booming, like the roar of the wind itself. "Move." As fast as he could move, the Wolverine disengaged himself and backed several feet away from Creed

With a wave of her hand, she conjured up a jet stream that plowed around Logan and blew Creed off the monument as if he weighed no more than a scrap of paper. When he was a hundred years out, Storm cut the lift and the feral man began to drop towards the sea with astounding speed. Before he hit the water, though, Storm punished him even further. From among the rapidly forming clouds, she called down a bolt of lightning, which struck the man square in the chest. With a toss of her hair, she turned around, neither seeing nor caring where the man fell. With surprising grace, she leapt back into the hole. Almost instantly the sky began to clear, a half full moon peeking through the abating clouds.

"Now let's go get our girl."

* * *

Knowing that the time was close, Rogue sat within the confines of her machine, musing wherever her mind wandered, thinking about her family, and the life she left behind. Being raised in the south, it was hard to avoid the all the religious undertones existing there, even if you'd wanted to. Rogue had attended Sunday service every week for as long as she could remember. Sitting beside her mother in a red plaid dress, she listened to the stories of miracles and hellfire and brimstone. At the time, faith had seemed like a logical belief. However, it hadn't been real faith, the girl knew, because for faith to be true it has to be tested. For Rogue, her time since fleeing Mississippi had been quite the test of faith. It's hard to believe that God is watching over everyone when you discover that you have a killer touch and the majority it humanity would sleep better if you were locked away in a mutant death camp. But sitting there, feeling lost and forgotten, Rogue was suddenly struck with a moment of nostalgia. She recalled the line of an old country song her father was fond of. It went something like _"but girl, you'll remember what your knees are for."_ Well, Rogue had never been more on her knees than at that very moment. Bowing her head, she began to whisper.

"God…oh God. I know…it's been so long," she was feeling twelve kinds of stupid at the moment, but the sound of her own voice, cracked and hoarse as it was, was nonetheless reassuring. "I'm not as sure about you as my folks used to be. I know life isn't supposed to be easy, that you test us constantly. At least, that 's what my Momma used to tell me. But I honestly think I've been tested enough at this point." Vocalizing her emotions, her anger, only made the words pour from her faster.

"What's going to happen here tonight…it's just not right. A lot of your people stand to be hurt tonight. I don't want to be a part of this," she admitted. "You can't let this happen, it's just not fair!" The final phrase came out as a shout. Needless to say, her attempt at a prayer to the higher power had deviated slightly. And it had been overheard too.

"You may find that what takes place here tonight does not agree with your definition of fairness," Magus cooed, appearing in the narrow doorway. "However, neither was the slaughter of the over a million Jews at the hands of the nazi regime. Where was God then? I already survived one genocide, Rogue. I will not stand idly by and witness another one." There was a haunting look in his eyes as he approached her, like a brief preview of the demons that tormented his soul within. For the first time ever, Rogue was more afraid of him than she was of death he promised her.

"You aren't going to forestall anything, Magneto. You're only going to make this war start that much faster. You will bring about the destruction of the mutant race, not prevent it."

"Then let the war come. I intend to fight this one to the very end." Reaching out both his hands, he leaned in close to her. Rogue shied back as far as possible, but the restraints kept her well within his reach. As his fingers brushed against her cheeks, Rogue had only a moment to hear him mutter, "and God will not be her to protect us this time either," before her power kicked in, and the world exploded around her in a shower of white light. She fell down that spiraling well of white so fast, she was unable to hear even her own scream.

* * *

AN: The song lyrics are from Sugarland's song Baby Girl. They own it, not me. Also, hang on tight, cause I've practically finished writing this story, and I have one hell of an ending planned for ya'll. Keep reading, reviewing, and stick around, cause this rides almost over ;)


	23. Mind Over Matter

It was as if a giant vacuum had been fastened to her entire body. Her muscles were being wrenched from her bones. Her chest was suddenly too heavy to move. Each breath was a struggle to draw in. The world swirled and swam around her, the scenery fading into a blinding white glow. Another scream echoed in her ears, but whether it was her own or not, she couldn't tell. The pressure of the cuffs on her hands, the feeling of the floor beneath her knees suddenly disappeared as the swirling white vortex pulled her down. The screams and shouts of a cacophony of voice roared in her ears as she shot in and out of memories not her own, dipped into times not her own, existed in a body that no longer felt like her own. Trapped within that tumbling place inside her mind, she fell…

_…The swirling stopped. The ground beneath her was solid again. The floor belonged to a room. The room trapped her. They attacked the instant Rogue let her guard down. Magneto, jeering at her in his haughty way. Mystique, anger raging in her yellow eyes, dove at her. They knocked her onto her back. The clawed at her limbs voraciously. Mystique's hand found its way into her hair, and used it to wrench her head back, slamming it against the floor. She cried out, despite herself. Mystique leaned in close to her and smiled dangerously, before slamming her head back again. Lost in the torrent of pain and motion, she failed to notice that Jasper was there until he drew back his hand. Jasper cuffed her hard across the face. Jasper was kneeling on her chest, but he was surprisingly light. With all her strength, she arched her back, sending Jasper crashing to the ground. He hit the floor, then promptly vanished._

_It made no difference. Mystique and Magneto needed no help. One of Magneto's blows drove her off to her side. She saw there was a means to their madness. The pair was dragging her. They were forcing her towards the edge of the white room. She could just make out a sharp drop off. A well that didn't appear to have a bottom._

_"NO!" she screamed, kicking out madly. "N," she protested again. Magneto silenced her with another blow to the mouth. They were going to throw her down that well.. They were going to kill her…

* * *

_

The two X-Men, the Canadian, and the Cajun gazed up at the torch before them as if it were the summit of Mount Everest. Unscalable, unreachable, and yet still their goal. The torch was beginning to glow brightly, and another scream echoed through the night air, telling them that the machine had, indeed, been activated. Logan was beside himself. If he knew it wouldn't have been a futile gesture, he would have tried to leap the distance between the head and the torch on his own. But he knew that his death would do nothing to save Rogue.

"Storm," he demanded in a rushed voice, "can you hit it?"

"Yeah, if I want to kill her along with the rest of us," she confessed. "Granted, that option is still on the table, but let's keep it there as a back up plan, okay? Any other bright ideas?" Beside her, Jean reached out with her mind, seeking Rogue's. Maybe, if she could get inside the girl's head, she could turn Magneto's powers off. But, despite knowing that the girl was there physically, she couldn't find her. It was as if her mind didn't exist.

"I can't reach her!" she exclaimed frantically. "The radiation is creating too much interference." Frustrated, she took a telekinetic swing at the machine. It did about as much damage as trying to stop the thing with a fly swatter would have. Focusing all her mental energies, she 'reared' back to take another crack at it, when the torch flame exploded.

Flying steel and Plexiglas rained down as Magneto's creation, and the growing white radiation coming from it, became visible for the first time. The rapidly spinning ring gained speed, and at the center of the vortex was a limp figure, slumped down, being held upright only by the chains around her writs.

"No!" Logan screamed into the night. "Time's up, ladies!" he shouted. "Get me up there, now!"

"Logan," Storm protested, "all that's going to accomplish is me launching you out to sea." Her voice rose in pitch to match his. "We don't need to bring another dead body home at the end of this."

"If we don't stop this now, there's going to be a lot more than two dead bodies to send home," he shot back. "I'll risk it, now launch me up there!" Storm conceded. There was going to be no arguing with the man, and no one else had a better idea anyway.

She backed up and grabbed onto a guardrail behind her. Jean did the same, and yanked Remy along with her.

"Hold on tight," she shouted at the Cajun, above the growing roar of the wind within the viewing chamber.

"Jean," Storm commanded, "help me keep him steady." The redhead nodded and kept Logan aligned on the jet stream as he began to rise into the air. Tumbling about, Jean kept a firm, mental grip on him. That didn't stop the ride from being wild, though. Tumbling about in space, Logan tried to focus on the target as he whirled around. Despite his best efforts, he almost flew over the top of the machine. Jean saw, and gave him a mental shove back down. It was just enough. In a blind grab that would have made the Yankee's best shortstop green with envy, he got a hand on the top crest of the contraption

It was enough.

Storm cut the power instantly, and Logan dropped onto the crossbeam. She shot Jean a nervous look out of the corner of her eye as Logan launched himself down between the ring rotations and out of sight.

"Now we wait," she whispered, her fingers crossed beneath her cloak. With baited breath, the three mutants stared at the spreading wave of radiation, growing ever closer to the innocent victims on Liberty Island.

"Something's wrong," Jean whispered, looking at Ororo frantically. "It's taking too long." She shook her head in disbelief. "Too long…" A thunderclap echoed outside in response.

"We have to go," Storm declared. "Now! We'll fly out the top. I can carry the kid," she said, whirling to grab Remy. "We have to stop this-where's Remy?" she demanded. Jean spun around too, surprised to find that Remy was no longer standing behind her.

"No!"

* * *

Remy had been surprisingly quiet as the girl had launched Logan. He was physically exhausted. The back of his neck burned, he ached everywhere. A telltale pain in his side told him that Toad's kick had busted a few ribs. There was a bleeding cut above his left eyebrow, where he'd been hit by a piece of fly glass. He was a mess, he was in pain, but that wasn't the reason for his silence.

He was focused on being a thief. There was something in the back of his mind that was bugging him, it was right there. And just as Storm called for a retreat, it hit him. The little lightbulb came on over his head, and he practically flew from the room, ignoring the shouts that followed.

"I doubt whoever built dis this ting could fly," he muttered as he ran down the stairs, back the way they came. "An' someone's gotta be able to keep get up dere when things start fallin' and breakin' and stuff." He skidded back out onto the museum floorm which looked as if a tornado had swept through. Rubble and broken glass lay crunched beneath his boot heel, remnants of their fight with Toad. No matter. He turned around, still talking to himself.

"Torch is on dat side," he ran along the wall. "Arm must hit about…here." He stopped before a wide dislplay case that, upon further inspection, turned out to be bolted to the floor so as not to be moved. The glass panes of the door had been broken in during the battle, but the wooden frame was still intact. "Not fo' long," he said to himself, drawing out a quickly thinning handful of cards. When they began to glow, he hurled them into the obstacle.

"Dere's always more den one way ta skin de cat," he muttered, before the display case exploded, revealing what Remy hoped it would. Behind the smoking rubble, an off color piece of steel had been screwed to the wall. It was taller than him, roughly door shaped, and after a touch of his finger, it was no longer there anymore.

The passageway behind reminded Remy of the catacombs located beneath a graveyard, a stones throw from the property border of the Guild home. As boys, he and Henri, among others, had spent hours venturing as far into the dark passages as they dared to go. It was a test of will and bravery: who could go the farthest before getting scared and turning back. Remy held that record proudly, and it was still unbroken to this day, though many boys had tried. However, what those boys didn't know was that Remy had simply walked into the first vacant tomb he came to, and sat there playing solitaire until he beat the previous record. He'd spotted the loophole right away actually. The boys measured how far a guy went in by how long he was down there.

"No point in takin' de long way, when de answer be sitin' right dere in front o' you," he'd told himself as he counted the passing minutes. No longer a sneaky boy of 13 though, Remy shoved that memory to the back of him mind as he plowed into the passage.

It was pitch black inside, he noted, keeping one hand on the wall so that he would know where he was going. Beneath his fingertip, the steel hummed and vibrated.

"Ah'm sure dat can't be good for de foundation," he said, his other hand stuck straight out in front of him. Beneath his feet, a ladder ran along the entire length of the arm. In some places, as it was now, the ladder was horizontal, running along the floor. In others, it went 90 degrees straight vertical. The angle changed continually, and more than once did Remy trip over it, or plow head on into a field of steel when the angle of the floor shifted drastically depending on which part of the sculpture he was in. But he was running on as fast as he could move, brushing cobwebs as thick as bed sheets off his face, and forever keeping one hand on the wall.

Climbing up once more, Remy was beginning to panic, expecting to feel the building erupt in a shower of lightning any minute now, his head slammed into the ceiling.

"Merdre," he cussed. Wrapping his legs around the rungs of the ladder, he ran his hands along the ceiling. Judging by his touch, he hadn't hit his head on the ceiling so much as he had on a giant, steel loop. It was a door handle for a hatch, like the kind on a submarine. Gripping it hard, Remy put his full weight into turning it.

It didn't budge.

"Sonufabitch," he swore, trying again. The handle groaned in a whiny way. "Screw 'dis!" He charged the entire hatch, and, dropping down a few rungs on the ladder, ducked as a giant wedge of steel dropped inches from his head. But it was followed by an influx of the warm, night air, and a horrible siren-like noise, so the Cajun knew he'd made it.

With a leap that would have made Catwoman jealous, he jumped up, grasping the top rung of the ladder with his hand, and flung himself through the hole. The scene that met his eyes was astonishing.

Logan was poised, claws drawn, in mid-swing at the machine's main support post. However, he was still enough to be mistaken for frozen, because Magneto was lying in front of him. Despite his weakened state, Erik's hand was raised, pointed directly at the Wolverine. Oblivious to the two men, Rogue still hung from her cuffs, however her hair now sported two pale streaks in it. The white radiation engulfed them all, and it obscured Remy's vision enough so that he couldn't tell if she was breathing. He resisted the urge to go to her, though, as the spinning rings would have taken his head off quite neatly. Instead, as he climbed through the hole, he picked another target: the exposed back of Magneto, who hadn't yet noticed that Remy was there.

Swiftly, he closed the distance between the hatch and the ancient mutant, and with one, swift motion, he hit Magnus on the back of the neck. The blow knocked the man forward. It theory, it should have knocked him unconscious, but instead his hands shot out to catch him, and his concentration was broken. It didn't knock Erik out, but it did enough. As if a giant, invisible hand hit the play button again, Wolverine suddenly finished his swing with a feral scream.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Adamantium claws cut through the support post like it was made from butter. Remy ducked his head as the steel frame fell to pieces, and momentum hurled the spinning ring out to sea. In a flash, the air cleared of all radiation, just yards from where it would have reached the fleeing crowd of the summit.

It wasn't a complete success though. In front of Remy, Magneto recovered, and he took advantage of the chaos. He raised his hand up and, pointing it at Logan, closed it into a sharp fist. Without warning, Wolverine's eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped like a rock. Before he could turn, though, Remy swung again. This time his aim was true, and Magnus slumped against the torch guardrail in a similar fashion.

* * *

_Screaming in protest, she tried to wrench her hair from Mystique's grasp. She kicked her feet, she dug in her heels, she did everything she could to slow her forward progress, but it wasn't enough. Mystique swung her around, dangled her over the void by her hair. She screamed. Mystique smiled and waved before dropping her. She shot out her hand as she fell, grabbing the edge of the wall. _

_Mystique was pissed, and tried to step on her fingers. Tried because Logan appeared from nowhere. He growled, and grabbed Mystique, flung her away. Then Logan ran to help her out of the void. Magneto got to him first, grabbing Logan by the shoulder and flinging him down. Logan tried to get back up, but Magneto hit Logan again, and he went flying backward._

"_Rogue, no!" Logan shouted. "Hang on, kid!"_

_She tried, she tried so hard, but she couldn't do it. As Magneto's boot heels came down, she heard something crack, and suddenly she was falling, plunging into the dark abyss below. Tumbling and spinning, she lost all sense of sense of place as the white light from above faded away._

_"I'm dying," she said aloud as she fell. It wasn't a cry, just a statement of fact. She didn't know who she was, but she was dying. It wasn't so bad, she decided. She wasn't even in pain. _

_Suddenly…_

_There was a whoosh of air, and she slammed into something from the side. She slammed into it hard. The thing stuck to her. Clung to her?_

_She didn't know. The air was blowing her hair down now. She was moving back up._

_"That's not right," she said. "I'm falling."_

_"Not anymore, Tiger," replied a voice not her own. So she was connected to a person. How strange, she thought. "Hang on, I've got you," the voice told her. She did as instructed, wrapping her arms around the person. It felt warm and squishy beneath her. She looked up._

_That light, it was back again. Above her this time. _

_"It's back," she told the person._

_"Rogue, focus!" the person instructed her. She was confused. She couldn't focus. Who was Rogue?_

_"Who is Rogue?" she asked aloud as light shined down all around them. The person finally became visible in the light. She recognized the face…and didn't._

_"You are," the person told her, short, white-blonde hair whipping in her face. "This is your body, Rogue, your mind. You have to focus," the person told her as they landed on the white ground again. "You have to fight!"_

_Magneto was there. Logan was there. The person was there. She looked at that the unknown person first. _

_"Who are you?" she asked. Behind her, Magneto moved to hit her. Logan hit him first. She shied away from the commotion._

_"My name is Carol. You know me." She studied the Carol person. Gray eyes, pale hair. A black leotard, with a yellow lightning bolt across is, and a red sash at the bottom of it. A mask over her light eyes. _

_"No I don't," she said, and turned away. Logan had fallen down. Magneto came at them now. Carol pushed her away as Magneto went to hit her. Carol grabbed him and threw him into the wall. _

_Logan disappeared. Mystique came back. _

_Carol grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back up. "Rogue, you have to fight this. Remember me, remember how Magneto hurt you, hurt me! He wants to control you now, Rogue. You have to stop him." Magneto was back on his feet. He grabbed Carol's shoulder. Carol hit him in the gut, and he went flying backwards. Carol grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Carol never saw Mystique coming. Mystique kicked Carol in the back. Carol flew forward into her, and to her surprise melted into her._

_She screamed. _

_The voice in her head screamed. They screamed as the memories swallowed them whole. Images, emotions, feelings. She saw love, she saw hate. _

_She saw herself._

_A prisoner._

_She knew herself._

_And she was whole once more. _

_"Rogue," a voice inside her head said. "I'm you alright." _

_"Carol!" Rogue cried, inside and out. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." She was on her hands and knees on the floor. Her hands. Her knees._

_Her, Rogue._

_"Where have you been?" she asked inside her head. "Carol, what happened?" She didn't have time to wait for an answer, because Magnus was up and moving again. Rogue could barely see through the glow hovering around her, but she could see could see well enough. In a move she never planned to make, Rogue launched out at him, and swung. Instead of denting her hand on his armor, Magneto flew back across the room, sprawled out on his back. In astonishment, she gazed down at her hands._

_"What…?" she asked._

_"That," Carol replied, "was why I hid myself from you. Rogue, you did what I asked you too. But because you took my life, all I had, I could have become a part of you. I should have. I didn't want to though," she cried in Rogue's head. "I didn't want to burden you with my psyche, my powers, my life. So I resisted. But Magneto took care of that for me." Rogue wasn't focused on that though. _

_"Your power?" she asked, continuing to stare at her hands. _

_"My powers, Rogue," she replied, a not of humor in her 'voice'. "Your power now." _

_"What am I supposed to do with," she began to ask._

_"FIGHT!" Carol screamed, jerking Rogue back into the reality around her. She caught Mystique's leg, mid kick, and hurled the woman to the ground. _

_"They're spectral images, Rogue," the woman explained. "Psyche's, just like you and me. They're the last people you touched. They're strong here. If they beat you, your body becomes there's."_

_"How do I beat them!" she cried, tossing Magneto like a rag doll. He immediately got back up, and came at her._

_"You can't," Carol explained. "You have to escape. Back the way you came. Up."  
"Up?" Rogue questioned. _

_"Yes up," Carol explained. "Just relax kiddo, let me handle this one. Relax…" Rogue did as she was told, to the best of her abilities, that is, when evil people were coming to kill her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath…_

_…and felt the pressure beneath her feet disappear. She cracked her eyes open a bit, and screamed!_

_"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

_She was flying, like a bird! It was amazing, exhilarating, and terrifying at the same time. She felt stronger this time, like she could take on the world. _

_Invincible._

_But that feeling quickly abated as she rose through the vortex. A dull pain coursed through her entire body. Still, she rose. Then the pain grew sharp. Her head was ringing. It felt as if someone was sitting on her chest, she couldn't breathe. _

"_Hang on, kiddo," Carol said from within. "Just a little higher."_

"_Like a track runner, she saw her prize ahead of her, her goal, and she stretched her hand out for it. Her hand entered the air beyond the cyclone. The pain increased tenfold._

_She closed her eyes and flung herself forward…_

_…it was over._

It was over…

* * *

AN: Two chapters to go! 


	24. Killing Me Softly

An eerie silence hung in the air around the torch, protecting it's inhabitants from the panicked screams rolling across the water from on Liberty Island, and the growing noise of approaching sirens. Remy was the only one able to enjoy the quiet, not that he was enjoying much of anything at that moment. There was an urgent-ness in his motions, as he closed the short distance between himself, and the still Rogue.

As gently as possible, he destroyed her handcuffs with a touch of his hands. As she slumped down, Remy reached out, taking the girl's light, limp form gently into his arms. She was shaking, shivering, spasming against him. A breath broke weakly from between her lips. There was an irregular pause between that and the next one. Suddenly her hand convulsed on his arm, nails biting into his skin even through the tough leather. Rogue arched her back, a weak moan peppering the silence around them. Remy clamped his arms tightly around her as she writhed in pain. It was clear to him what was happening. Exactly what Magneto had promised: Rogue was dying.

And there was nothing he could do.

* * *

Each breath was murder for Rogue, as she hung on the border of oblivion. Magneto's machine had been designed to handle his power. Rogue had not. The sheer immensity of the force that has swelled within her had burst the blood vessels running through every muscle in her body, including her heart. With each feeble beat, Rogue's own heart was forcing herself to bleed to death internally.

Utterly exhausted, Rogue's screaming muscles relaxed briefly as a painful spasm abated, and she lay limp and still in Remy's arms once more. Then, slowly, one…than another forest green eye pierced the darkness to regard the Cajun as he held a silent vigil.

* * *

"Took you long enough…" The whisper was hoarse and unearthly, not to mention barely audible, but it caught Remy's attention nonetheless. He reached out and ran a partially-gloved hand gently over her cheek. Rogue leaned into the gesture weakly.

"Sorry, chere," he apologized. "We got a little tied up down dere." He tried to keep his voice light and teasing, but his poise slipped for one of the first times in his life as his tenor voice cracked with emotion. Rouge took another shaky breath.

"I thought you were dead," she stated. He smiled and shrugged gently, trying not to jar her prone body.

"Yeah, Ah was," he responded, recalling how Jean told him his heart had stopped on the flight to New York. "Ta quote yer hairy friend 'Ah got better'."

"Is Logan okay?  
"Yeah, unfortunately," he said sarcastically, shooting a cursory glance at where Logan lay in front of them. He was out cold, but his chest was still moving. Rogue would have hit Remy for being a smart ass if she'd been able to feel her arm, but she settled for shooting him her best chastising look. It was getting harder for her to breathe, but she tried to talk anyway. She wasn't going to waste a second of the time she had left.

"Nice…" she began, but broke out in a fit of coughing. Remy rubbed his hand softly against her back as she spluttered weakly. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. Rogue didn't notice, and Remy made no move to draw attention to it. As her hacking subsided, Rogue took another raspy breath and tried to speak again.

"Ni…ce…out…fit." Remy forced a light chuckle through his lips, for her sake. Not many girls could make jokes in a situation like this. That though gave the knife is his heart another cruel twist. _'What am Ah gonna do witout her?_' Remy asked himself, but what he said out loud was,

"Really, you like chere?" He shook his head slightly. "Personally Ah don't tink leather and Ah agree, but…"

"You do," she sputtered.

"By da way," he said, trying to look calm. "Ya owe me a new coat."

"I'll…get right on that, big guy," she said after a pause. He was a lousy actor, she decided. Trying too hard to be calm and cool. She was suddenly struck with a pang of guilt. It was all her fault that he was here, after all. "Look," she started to say. "Remy… I'm so sorry…"

But he shook his head again.

"T'aint nothin' ta be sorry 'bout," he said. "Ah wouldn't 'ave missed an adventure lik dis fo' de world." He let the sentence hang in the air as Rogue's grip on his arm lessened suddenly, and she closed her eyes. "Rogue?"

She didn't respond except to draw another shuddering breath, her entire body quivering lightly. Remy pulled her closer to his body, trying to fend off whatever chill was plaguing her.

"You should stay with them," she told him suddenly, leaving no room for argument. "The X-men can be your family now…just like the Guild was. Promise…promise me…you'll…stay?" Her voice was barely above a whisper now, her lips moving soundlessly. She forced her eyes open against the impending darkness to look at Remy for his response. She knew what has happening. The look on Remy's face was enough to confirm her worst fears, she wasn't going to walk away from this. But if the X-Men had taken the Cajun in, if she knew she wouldn't be leaving him alone, then this process would be so much easier on her. He'd saved so many people tonight, he and Logan had. He'd saved her so many times earlier. He was cut out for this hero stuff. Rogue knew it. As long as he'd stay…than this would all be worth it.

Ultimately…it would all worth it.

Remy brushed the covered part of his hand gently along her cheek again, Rogue relishing in the comforting touch, before he nodded.

"Ah will, Rogue, if you do, o'course," he responded. "Come ta tink of it, let's make a new rule: while Ah live, you don' die, kay?" She would have smiled…she tried to, but there just wasn't enough strength left in her body. The darkness of the night around her began forcing in, and Rouge focused all her attention on Remy's face, looming above her, as everything else was thrown into oblivion.

Her complexion ghostly pale, Remy clutched the girl's limp body tightly against him. If what she wanted was for him to stay at that crazy institute, then he'd do it, for her sake. He knew that at this point, he should have been begging Rogue to hold on, willing her to be strong. But Rogue had experienced more pain and suffering in her short 18 years than most people did in a lifetime, and she'd been forced to be strong for far too long now. If she was going to go, Remy wanted her last moments to be full of the peace she never knew.

But, oh, it was killing him inside, watching the life slip from her body. Slowly, painfully…his heart was shattering with each gasping breath she took. Her vibrancy, her spirit, they were all draining out oh her body. Her life…

That though made Remy's blood freeze for a moment. He thought back to something Jean had said earlier when she briefed him on the plane.

"Rogue's touch drains the memories, the powers, the very life force out of any living thing…"

If Rogue's own life force was slipping away, then he'd use her power's to her advantage: he'd give her his life force instead. Without hesitation Remy moved his hand down to Rogue's chin and turned it up towards him. The motion stirred what little strength she had left in her and Rogue cracked one eye open to regard him. She didn't need to be a telepath to know what he was planning. As he leaned in to kiss her, her lips parted.

"No…don't,…I'll kill…you too…" she forced from between them, grimacing in pain as the last of her strength failed her. She struggled feebly, but Remy wasn't letting her slip through his fingers, not this time around. She'd clawed her way into his heart; she meant too much to him.

"Shhhhh," he consoled her once again, leaning in. "Ah can't tink of a better way to go, luv."

His face loomed near in Rogue's field of vision as she tried to brace for contact. He was so close, but so was the darkness. He grew closer…closer…as the blackness swallowed up the world around her…taking Rogue with it…

* * *

AN: We're in the home stretch now (no pun intended). Bonus point to anyone who can spot the 'magic' line in this chapter and tell me why it's so special ;) Keep Reviewing!


	25. Lose Ends and Lost Chances

…**DEET…DEET…DEET…DEET…DEET…**

The strange noise roared loudly in her ears. Completely disoriented, Rogue tumbled and kicked, rolling over, finding her arms and legs pinned. Her eyes, when open, were blind. She panicked, struggling and lashing out, when suddenly the ground beneath her stopped and Rogue was thrown into space…but not far. Her stomach and hips met with something hard, forcing the air from her lungs.

…**DEET…DEET…DEET…DE-**

Flesh met plastic with a dull smack and the screeching stopped as suddenly as it had begun

"Ehern…," a muffled voice moaned from somewhere beyond. "Ro..Rogue, whatsamatter?"

She heard the noise, the voice, the words, but Rogue's mind was still lost in some celestial place. Racing in circles, her consciousness went over and over the past few moments. Remy had been there, and Logan. They'd saved her. Remy's arms had been wound tightly around her. She could still picture the faint outline of his face, like the memory of an echo. He was right there, tangible and real and then…gone. Just gone.

"Rogue?" The voice was now accompanied by pressure. Faint points of light began emerging all around her as Rogue's breathing returned to normal. That voice… "Rogue, are you okay?" The voice demanded in a panicked tone.

Then a pair of hands burst through the cocoon binding her, fastening onto her shoulder. The bindings were thrown back by her savior and the blinding light revealed a young, pert face regarding her with a worried expression.

Paige Guthrie, Rogue's roommate.

Her roommate, here at school, for almost two years now. Almost two years after it all. After Magneto's attack…and when Logan saved her…

It was all coming back to her, but Rogue clung to her confusion. Because in the world that made sense Remy wasn't there.

"Hun, you okay?" Paige asked again, heaving the prone girl to her feet and shoving her onto her own tousled bed. "Bad dream?"

Dream? It had all been a dream?

Rogue shoved the girl's hand away, panting slightly from exhaustion and confusion.

"Yeah," she muttered hoarsely. "A dream…I guess so…" Paige sat down next to her, shoving a tangled pair of blonde pigtails out of her face. Rogue was drenched in sweat, pale and shaking. She seemed really out of it, and Paige was starting to wonder if she'd fallen on her head.

"Do you want me to go get Dr. McCoy, hon? You don't seem yourself?"

'_No,'_ Rogue thought, _'I'm not myself.'_ But out loud she said, "No, don't worry. I just had a rough night. Too little sleep, you know?" she lied. Paige bought right into it. Grabbing a robe and a bottle of shampoo off a shelf, she headed for the door.

"You coming?" she asked. Rogue shook her head.

"I'm gonna skip my shower this morning," she said, flopping back down onto the bed. "All the noise in that locker room's gonna make this headache ten times worse." Paige opened the door and stepped out.

"See you at breakfast, then?"

"Yeah…yeah…"

* * *

Rogue's mind was spinning while her heart was busy breaking in two. It had…it had all felt so real. She'd known pain and loss and fatigue. All very real sensations and emotions. She'd known…love. And that was what killed her.

All thoughts of Remy aside, Rogue focused her mind back on this world, on real life. On Bobby. He alone had believed in her, and trusted her from day one. He'd risked his life, his world, everything, for her. And for a while it seemed like he was exactly what she needed. The person who would fill up that emptiness in her spirit. But then Remy had come along…No. No, Remy hadn't come along, she reminded herself. He wasn't even real.

Just a figment of her imagination. But all of him, the way he walked, talked. It seemed so…so perfectly imperfect. But what frightened her was that, despite everything her mind was saying about logic and reality, her heart was still crying out for lost emotion. For a man that didn't even exist.

"_In my head there's only you now…"_

Rogue bolted upright on the bed, searching for the source of the soft noise.

"…_This world falls on me…"_

The melody, which she'd failed to notice inside her vortex of emotions, was now soft and persistent.

"…_In this world there's real and make believe"_

There, on the nightstand. Paige had turned off the alarm, but hit the power button for the clock radio.

"…_And this seems real to me…"_

The lyrics of the slow love seemed haunting and cruel. She stretched out her hand, fingers balled into a tight fist and…

"…_And you love me but you don't know who I am."  
_

…Knocked the stupid plastic alarm clock off the table, vision blurred by a field of tears. She had to get up, she knew it. But part of her was afraid. Afraid that Bobby would look into her eyes and know. Afraid that if she left this room, all of the dream, everything Remy had left inside her, would vanish like an echo.

Forever.

* * *

"I can't believe we had Ms. Braddock as a substitute again," Kitty moaned as she and the girls made their way back towards their living quarters after last period. "Did Storm fall off the edge of the world or something?"

"She's on some mission," Jubilee added through a mouthful of bubble gum, smacking it loudly.

"Well duh, I figured that," Kit shot back, "but for how long?" Little, redheaded Tracy shoved her way through the queue of girls.

"I heard she's off visiting an old friend," she piped up in her sickeningly sweet voice. Jubes reached down and ruffled her hair, before turning back to Kitty.

"What do you have against Ms. Braddock anyways?" she demanded. "She's nice, and gives less homework than 'Ro does."

"I never said she wasn't nice," Kitty moaned, shifting her books from one arm to the next. "It's that British accent that kills me. I can barely understand her," she moaned.

"You don't have to tell me that," Paige piped up from the back of the group. "_I_ couldn't understand what she was saying because Kitty was leaning over my shoulder the whole time, asking _me_ what was being said." The entire group burst out in a fit of giggle…all but one. Rogue was walking on slowly in the middle or the hoarde, her head down, cloaked behind a wall of hair. Paige looked at her expectantly…then with disappointment. Rogue caught her stare out of the corner of her eye.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Paige claimed, throwing up her hands. "You're just really quiet is all." Rogue's only response was a sigh.

"Yeah, are you sure you're okay hon?" Jubilee added, diving into the coversation. Rogue sighed again. The sadness weighing down inside her was obviouslyeasy to spot through her paper-thin façade. So, when faking failed, she did the next best thing: she lied.

"I'm just feeling a little under the weather today," she explained. "That's all. A combination of a cold and cramps, you know,"she added with a wink. "I just need a good night's sle," she started to say, but Rhane, from near Jubes right side, threw up her hand, bring the group to a halt and hissing at them to be quiet.

"Shhhhhhh!" Slowly, she sidled up to the nearest door in the long hall, the one to the Professor's Office, and pressed her ear lightly against the door.

"What?" Jubilee hissed. "Who's in there?" Rhane waved a hand behind her, telling Jubes to stuff it, without so many words. Finally, after a few moments, she resumed walking again, leading the group this time.

A few yards down the hall she said, "Well, the prodigal teacher has returned again."

"Who, Ororo?" Tracy asked. Jubes and Kitty rolled their eyes and, in unison, moaned,

"Duh!" Then Kitty demanded, "what else did you hear?" Rhane shrugged.

"The Professor talking, 'Ro talking, and a voice I didn't recognize." She shrugged again. "A guy, I think…" But Rogue had reached her room, and took the opportunity to escape from the companionship that, today, felt like it was smothering her.

* * *

Rogue opted to skip dinner that evening as well, knowing that when she entered the noisy dining room she'd find Bobby in his usual spot, saving her a seat and looking eager to see her. She just couldn't deal with that right now, so she'd convinced Paige to tell him that she was sick and wasn't up to seeing anybody. When the voices in the hallway beyond had died, and the time on the clock confirmed that everyone would be at dinner, Rogue had crept down into the pantry, stealing a can of Pringles and a six pack of warm Pepsi. Just the kind of food a growing girl needed.

She'd been planted in the window seat of the upstairs library since then, flipping idly through one of Jubilee's magazines and watching traffic pass on Graymalkin Lane below. When the large pendulum clock in the corner had struck 8, Rogue dumped her empty canisters into the small garbage can in the corner, and sprinted to the door, hoping to make it downstairs and back into her room before anyone realized she was gone.

Dashing into the hallway beyond, she was relieved to find it empty. She skidded carelessly around the corner, expecting to find the passageway beyond just as empty as the previous one. She was wrong. Head down, she slammed into somebody, hard, and went flying backwards.

She landed a little harder than anticipated, and Rogue's vision blurred as her eyes welled with tears. She dug the heels of her gloved hands into the corners of her eyes, wiping them away as her ears stopped ringing. A hand was thrust into her view as her own fell limply to her sides.

"You plannin' on statyin' down dere all day?" a voice asked from above.

Rogue's heart stopped, blood frozen still in her veins, mouth unable to speak.. She knew that voice, deep in her heart she knew. It was the voice that had comforted and taunted and played with her lifetimes ago. It was the voice that had captivated her from within a dream. Though part of her was desperately afraid that she would look up and find it was all a figment of her imagination, and beautiful daydream, the longing in her heart wouldn't let her wait another moment longer. She glanced up and saw…

…Her own eyes staring back at her, reflected in the lenses of a pair of dark glasses. But the long nose, the tousled brown hair, the jaunty smile. They all belonged to a face hauntingly familiar. She took the offered hand robotically, and was promptly hauled back to her feet.

"Sorry 'bout dat chere," her helper said, returning his hands to the pockets of his long trench coat. On his belt, Rogue noticed a small, silver object, reflecting the light oddly, and there was a rectangle shaped bulge in one of his side pockets. A shiver ran down her spine as she regarded the man before her. "Ah seem to 'ave dat effect on da ladies. 'Ave we met?" he asked suddenly. Rogue's lips parted, but no words emerged. So she just stood stock still. "Ah 'ave the strangest feelin' Ah've seen you b'fore, non?" The demons within Rogue began to do battle again. Sanity won this time.

"No," she croaked, "No, I don't think we have." He reached up suddenly, smacking his head lightly and flashing a flirtatious grin.

"Well den, where are mah manners?" he asked coyly, cocking a stray eyebrow. He presented her with his hand once more, bridging the gap between their bodies. "Ah'm Remy."

Rogue would have like nothing more than to leap into his arms and finish where they'd left off. But that dream wasn't a reality. Wasn't this reality, at least. And she couldn't do that. Her heart was aching as she traced every inch of his face with her eyes, taking in his strong chin, prominent features. Soft lips. His smell, musky and faintly of liquor, involuntarily led her body into a state of calm contemplation. Was that dream out to prove that there are such things as soul mates. That across time, space, and a hundred decisions that should've gone differently, love would still overcome? Only one way to find out.

She took his hand.

"I know."

FIN

* * *

AN: Well, after more than a year, and several really big plot changes on my part, this story is finally complete. I hoped you all liked it because I sure as hell had a fun time writing it. As for last chapter, all of you got the 'magic line' which was the title of X-Treme X-Men #15. In that story, however, Rogue says that to Gambit. Go figure. Also, I could help adding the song lyrics in this last chapter. They're from the song "Let Me Go" off of Three Doors Down's new album, which is great. So go ahead and comment, leave me your final thoughts about the story as a whole. Constructive crit is welcomed as well. Thanks for reading and for all your encouragement. Stretch ;) 


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